Crosshairs
by legallyinsane93
Summary: *Revised 10/3/13* When a military officer and the three children she protects join Rick's group, sacrifices must be made and dangerous secrets must be revealed if humans are to remain the dominant species on Earth. Full Summary Inside
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: ONE AND ONLY! I do not own The Walking Dead. I'm only writing this for entertainment, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Title:** Crosshairs

**Summary:** Post "Judge, Jury, & Executioner"- When Daryl has the idea to return to the highway and retrieve the supplies the group left for Sophia, he never expects to run into an ex-military officer and the three children she seeks to protect. With walkers wandering close to the Greene farm, however, the group of survivors needs all the help it can get. Sacrifices will have to be made and dangerous secrets will have to be revealed if the human race is to remain the dominant species on the planet.

**Note: **Events will primarily be based off of TV show canon, though it will be manipulated to fit my plan, with some influences from the comics. This story also has the potential to go completely AU at any time at the whim of my muse.

**Warning**: This story is based off of _The Walking Dead_, which, as we all know, contains violence, language, gore, sexual content, and other mature themes. Therefore, this story will not be all sunshine and rainbows and fluff. While I am keeping the rating at T for now, I may bump it to M further on, either of my own volition or if one of you awesome readers suggests it. If you're easily offended, be warned.

**Note on Timeline:** Since The Walking Dead premiered in 2010, that is the year in which I'm having this story take place. All dates are adjusted accordingly, and the plot (mostly) flows according to the timeline on the Walking Dead Wiki, though there are instances where I've made adjustments based on my own observation or to fit the plot.

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><p><strong>AN:** Hello! While not my first foray into fanfiction, this is my first The Walking Dead fanfic. As of October 3, 2013, all of the chapters have been replaced with updated versions. If you're just tuning in, I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. If you're a returning reader, I apologize from being gone so long & hope you enjoy this updated version! I feel the characters are portrayed more consistently in character than in the previous version & hope you agree! Please review and tell me what you think, and don't be afraid to toss some ideas my way! :)

Lauren

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

A slight, casual breeze played through the trees clothed in the brilliance of early autumn, its near playfulness in deep contrast with the group it watched on the ground below. It was the largest group of people the breeze had passed in a while, a mix of man and woman, young and old. The group was gathered around four piles of dirt, one freshly turned. A single man stood out from the rest of the group, tall and solemn. Those around him stood in silent reverence, others choked with emotion, some with silent tears coursing their cheeks. He himself did not go unaffected by the same feelings of sorrow, at times pausing to regain his voice before continuing in his heartfelt eulogy.

"Dale could get under your skin," he said clearly. "He sure got under mine. 'Cause he wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought— how he felt. That kind of honesty is rare. And brave. Whenever I'd make a decision," he continued, turning to meet the gazes of his mournful listeners, "I'd look at Dale and he'd be lookin' back at me with that look he had— we've all seen it one time or another. I couldn't always read him, but he could read us. He saw people for who they were. He knew things about us. The truth. Who we really are. In the end he was talkin' 'bout losin' our humanity. He said this group is broken. Best way to honor him is to unbreak it. Set aside our differences and pull together. Stop feelin' sorry for ourselves and take control of our lives, our safety, our future. We're not broken. We're gonna prove him wrong. From now on, we're gonna do it his way. That is how we honor Dale."

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><p>If she'd known how the day would unfold, she thought later, she might have stayed asleep all day, refusing to rise and greet the day. As it were, however, the woman woke with a start from a dream she was most likely glad she couldn't remember, breathing heavily as alertness shook the chains of grogginess from her mind and body. A thin sheen of sweat coated her skin, making the fleece lining of her blanket stick to her exposed arms and legs, strands of damp hair clinging to high cheeks and a wide forehead. <em>Damn Georgia humidity<em>, she mentally grumbled as she peeled her blanket away, exposing herself to the cool air waiting outside her warm cocoon. _You'd think after nearly four years I'd be used to it by now._ She then paused her inward grumbles as she set about crawling around and over the four figures sharing her space. Continuing her mental musings once she was certain her companions remained undisturbed, the woman released herself from the vehicle she'd been confined in for the night, inhaling deeply of the crisp fall air. It wasn't quite dawn yet, the stars still visible in the depths of the inky purple sky that swirled overhead, fading out of sight as the deep purple waned into pink touched with gold near the eastern horizon.

Sending a last glance at the sturdy vehicle she exited, her thoughts dwelling on the three still-slumbering occupants, the woman padded quietly into the nearby forest, her heavy boots scarcely making a sound as she sought out the small stream she'd discovered the night before. Sinking to her knees beside the clear, babbling brook, she splashed some of the cool water on her face and neck, rubbing the refreshing elixir down toned arms before standing and returning the way she'd come. She paused as her feet again met the asphalt road, catching the sky in its plethora of colors as the sun peeked just over the horizon. Remembering the legends from her childhood of the Sun and her jealousy, the woman raised her face to the gentle rays, eagerly soaking up their warmth. If there was one thing the woman would be grateful of in the months since the world had been cast into hell, it was that whichever god had forsaken the world had not taken the sun and its beauty with it when it had done so.

Returning to the day ahead, the woman climbed back into the vehicle she'd been at home in since long before the world had spiraled into chaos, casting a glance at her sleeping companions as she started the engine and set the truck in motion at a pace that would ensure maximum fuel efficiency. With the world in the state it was in, no one knew what each day would hold, but as the woman put the rising sun at her left shoulder, she was confident she could boldly face whatever awaited her on the horizon.

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><p>"Shane!" Rick called as everyone began to scatter from around the graves, remaining still beside the freshest pile of rock-rimmed dirt as a solid, brutish man separated from the others and approached.<p>

"Yeah?" came the gruff reply.

"I want you to get a couple people together. Go through the pastures and get rid of any walkers you find." He caught the man's gaze and held it, trying to use his eyes to stress the importance this assignment held. "I don't want anyone else wanderin' into another situation like last night."

"Sure thing," Shane returned, immediately setting off to assemble his team while Rick moved back toward camp, where he knew their host, Hershel, had something he wished to discuss with the former police officer. Bending his head against the sun trying to blind him as it peeked over the two-story farmhouse's green roof, Rick Grimes focused on all he and his people needed to accomplish over the course of the day. It was much easier to hold chaos at bay when there was a direction in which to move.

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><p>"Good morning, sunshines!" the woman called cheerfully as she heard movement behind her, pulling herself from her inner musings and reaching over to turn her already-quiet music down further.<p>

"Morning, Katy," came a groggy voice as a sandy-haired boy sat up, rubbing his eyes sleepily as Katy watched him in the rearview mirror.

"I'm hungry! When are we gonna stop for breakfast?" came a higher-pitched voice as an even younger girl popped up beside the boy, a halo of golden curls bouncing around her head.

"You're always hungry, Abby!" the boy retorted, rolling his eyes as Katy returned her gaze to the highway crunching beneath her vehicle's tires.

"Well, it's breakfast time!" Abby defended, jutting her chin out as she snuggled a stuffed purple rabbit close to her chest. "And Brutus needs to go for a walk." A large German Shepherd raised his head from between the two children at the sound of his name, giving what seemed to be an affirmative 'yip,' his tongue lolling from his snout in the Georgia humidity.

"Shh, Brutus!" the boy immediately admonished. "You'll wake Brook up!" With a small whine that confirmed Brutus understood he was in trouble, if perhaps not understanding the exact words, the dog lowered his head, placing his paws over his snout.

"Alright," Katy ceded with a laugh, glancing at the children in the rearview mirror before returning her eyes to the highway. "We'll stop in about half an hour. I wanna get a few more miles behind us."

"Ugh, more canned fruit," the boy grumbled. "I wish we had some donuts."

"I promise, when we get back I won't make you eat canned fruit for at least a month," Katy pledged, raising her right hand to emphasize her sincerity. "I'm gonna make donuts, and chocolate chip pancakes, and we're gonna chow down 'til we can't possibly eat anymore."

"Pinky swears?" Abby asked, leaning over the driver's seat with her smallest finger extended. _Of course_, Katy thought. _How could she possibly have thought a traditional pledge would be acceptable? _She balled her upheld right hand, leaving only her pinky extended, letting Abby's smaller finger twist around it.

"Promise."

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><p>"It'll be tight," Rick said from beside Hershel, watching his people begin gathering their belongings in preparation to comply with Hershel's offer. "Fourteen people in one house?"<p>

"Don't worry 'bout that," the white-haired patriarch returned. "With the swamp hardenin', the creek dryin' up…"

"And with fifty head of cattle on the property," a brunette identified as Hershel's daughter Maggie added, "we might as well be ringing the damn dinner bell."

"She's right," Hershel finished. "We shoulda moved you in a while ago."

"Alright," Rick said, accepting Hershel's offer and speaking loud enough for the whole group to hear over the sounds of their camp being packed up. "Let's move the vehicles near each of the doors facin' out toward the road. We'll post a lookout in the windmill and the barn loft. That'll give us sight-lines on both sides of the property." He then called to a large black man carrying a tub of belongings to a vehicle to be taken to the house they'd soon be calling home. "T-Dog, you take the perimeter around the house. Keep track of everyone comin' and goin'."

"What about standing guard?" the man replied.

"I need you and Daryl on double duty."

"I'll stock the basement with food and water," Hershel informed as T-Dog gave an affirmative and set to his assigned task. "Enough that we can survive down there a few days if need be."

"What about patrols?" piped a blonde woman.

"Let's get this area locked down first," Rick suggested. "After that, Shane will assign shifts while me and Daryl take Randall off-site and cut him loose."

"We back to that now?" Shane asked from his position leaning against an old blue pickup, his tone making it obvious that he wasn't keen on such a decision.

"It was the right plan the first time around," Rick asserted. "Poor execution."

"That's a slight understatement," Shane scoffed, remembering the 'poorly executed' plan that had nearly cost both Rick and Shane their lives.

"You don't agree." Heavy authority laced the smaller man's tone as he locked gazes with his friend. "This is what's happenin'. Swallow it. Move on."

"You know that Dale's death and the prisoner are two separate things, right?" Shane tried again. Seeing his former partner wasn't going to budge, Shane continued. "You wanna take Daryl as your wingman? Be my guest."

"Thank you," Rick said, hearing Shane give an affirmative before continuing on with everything he needed to get done. He decided it would definitely be a long, busy day.

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><p>What was meant to be a half hour hold on breakfast Katy had pushed to an hour and a half, ignoring the grumblings of her own stomach, before finding their way blocked by a sea of abandoned vehicles. Climbing out of the Humvee after changing from the shorts and tank top she'd slept in to her fatigue pants and a long-sleeved black shirt, Katy wandered to where the sandy-haired boy she knew as Luke attempted to convince a baby—edging more toward toddler-hood than infancy—to eat the mush he was offering. Three cans of fruit cocktail, two of them already empty and sitting by a can-opener, told Katy that he and Abby had already finished their meager breakfast while she'd changed clothes.<p>

"How's our girl doin'?" Katy asked as she pulled on her leather bomber jacket and leaned down to lace her boots.

"Making a mess as always," Luke said, exasperation in his voice as the baby buckled into a carrier sitting on the trunk of a car spit up the oatmeal he'd just given her. "She doesn't like this much."

"I never cared much for oatmeal as a kid either," the woman replied with a chuckle. "Where's your sister?"

"Abby took Brutus for a walk," Luke said, pointing toward the mess of vehicles with the spoon he was using to feed Brooklyn. "They went down that way."

Knowing Abby was safe with the German Shepherd, Katy watched Luke attempt to feed his baby sister for a moment longer, wondering how the world had become so messed up as to a nine-year-old boy having to worry about keeping his sisters safe and providing for them when he should be worried about catching frogs and first crushes. "Let me finish this," she said after a moment, taking the spoon and bowl of hastily-mixed mush from Luke. "Why don't you go find your sister and check through some of these vehicles for anything we can use?"

With a nod, Luke handed over the meager breakfast before taking off at a run toward the multi-colored maze halting them in their tracks. "Luke?" The boy pulled up short as Katy's voice carried to him, looking back over his shoulder. "Keep your eyes peeled and signal if you hear anything." Luke nodded obediently and Katy watched him go with a small smile before turning back to the baby before her. "Watcha gotta be so stubborn for?" Katy said, her voice jumping an octave as she smiled widely at the content infant. "Finish off this atrocity and I'll share the good stuff with you."

It took several long minutes and a lot of coaxing to finish feeding the unenthusiastic infant, but Katy felt a sense of triumph as the last of the soupy greyish food went down the baby's throat. As Brooklynn gurgled happily in her carrier, Katy reached for the can-opener and the unopened can of fruit cocktail, eager for her own breakfast. The blue-eyed child beside her grinned and squealed as Katy spooned out some of the sweet syrup and shared as promised, causing the former soldier to smile warmly.

Once Katy finished her breakfast, she gathered together a few tools and set to digging through some of the vehicles nearby, keeping Brooklynn at her feet in the carrier as she dug through trunks and truck beds. Stepping up to a bronze Tahoe's back hatch some time later, the former soldier eyed the brightly-colored declaration of 'Jesus is my co-pilot' depicted on a bumper sticker. "How'd that work out for you?" she scoffed, glancing through the back window at the corpse planted in the SUV's driver's seat. She then focused on the door separating her from a potential motherlode of supplies, jimmying a screwdriver into the lock and popping it out of place so that she could reach the latch, grinning proudly to herself as she stuck her finger into the hole she'd made and heard the click of the door unlocking. Katy had just opened the back hatch and started digging through a suitcase of clothes when she caught the sound of her name. Turning as she heard quick, pounding footsteps rushing in her direction, she pulled her Beretta from its holster at her thigh as Luke and Abby approached at high speed. From the volume of their voices, Katy expected to see a herd of the infected stumbling after them, but found them alone aside from Brutus loping behind them.

"Hush!" Katy ordered as they approached and slowed to a stop, chests heaving. "You're gonna have every one of the infected in the country headin' this way, you keep that up!"

"But Katy!" Abby cried, grabbing the woman's hand, "We found something!"

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><p>It wasn't until a few hours later that Rick found himself planning his latest excursion, leaning over a map with the rough, crossbow-wielding man he'd come to know and respect, tracing the route he'd planned with Daryl listening attentively. Though he'd never admit it out loud, Rick had been surprised when the hang-up came from Shane selecting the gruff hunter to join his team tasked with surveying the property and ridding it of walkers. The former officer had somewhat callously expected Shane to hold a grudge against Daryl for the fact that Rick had chosen the hunter to accompany him on the trek to release Randall rather than his former partner, but Rick supposed Daryl's proficiency with the crossbow not currently slung between the man's shoulders and his ability to pick out a leaf that had been trod upon by a walker from the millions of others in the woods was an undeniable advantage.<p>

"We'll take him out to Senoia," Rick pointed out to the man studying the map over his shoulder. "An hour there and an hour back. We might lose the light, but we'll be halfway back by then."

"And then this little pain in the ass will be a distant memory," Daryl added with a nod as he pushed off of the porch railing to stand upright. "Good riddance."

"Carol's putting together some provisions for him," Rick added as Daryl turned to lean back against the porch railing to face Rick. "Enough to last a few days."

"Speaking of provisions," Daryl began as a thought struck him and he reached toward the map, tracing their route. "We'll be passing within a mile of that highway where we left the supplies for Sophia. If we're heading past anyway, might as well see if they're still there. With fourteen of us, we need all the supplies we can get."

The hunter looked to Rick for approval and the former cop nodded as he folded up the map they'd laid out. "Yeah, you're right. No sense leavin' 'em out there. We can stop on our way out. That way we aren't out lookin' for 'em in the dark." It was Daryl's turn to nod, and a thought struck Rick as he surveyed the hunter's quiet agreement. "That thing you did last night"—

Rick trailed off, tapping the edge of the map in his hand against the porch railing. The events he spoke of were still so fresh…it was difficult to put the gratitude he wished to convey into words. The hunter, however, seemed to understand, looking up at Rick with those sharp blue eyes that the cop had noticed drank in everything around him in silent observance. "Ain't no reason you should do all the heavy liftin'."

The expression was so simple Rick could think of no response. All the decisions he'd had to make since he'd woke in that hospital weighed on him so heavily that some days, when things got so very low, he nearly wished he'd never awakened and so never had to deal with this crazy world in which they now lived. People were counting on him to keep them safe—keep them alive, and lately it seemed all he did was fail. Yet, here was Daryl offering to take some of that load, and Rick could feel nothing but appreciation for the hunter, finding himself only able to nod until both his and Daryl's attention turned to the silver hatchback coming up the Greene driveway.

"So you good with all this?" Rick asked, gesturing toward Daryl with the map and feeling the need to give the hunter a chance to take back what he'd just said and bow out.

"I don't see us trading haymakers on the side of the road," Daryl answered with a chuckle, flooring Rick once again, as he'd told no one about the fight between him and Shane on their last expedition to free Randall. He supposed it was nothing for the hunter to see the bruises both Rick & Shane had returned with and connect the dots. "Nobody'd win that fight."

Rick gave a soft, amused laugh before both men noted Shane's approach. "I'm gonna go take a piss," Daryl decided, once again reading the situation perfectly and conveniently making himself scarce. Rick sighed as he eyed the man pacing toward him that he wasn't sure should be labeled 'friend' or 'foe'. Either way, he was certain he wasn't in the mood for this conversation.

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><p>"What does it say?" Abby asked innocently, clinging to Katy's free hand where they stood before the car the children had found emblazoned with a message and with a few meager provisions.<p>

"See if you can figure it out," Katy suggested, setting Brooklyn's carrier down on the ground so she could help Abby climb on the front bumper of the car to clearly see the message painted on the window.

"Sss…ah…puh…hi…uh," Abby said slowly, repeating the sounds a little faster. "Sop-hi-uh? What's that?"

"It's 'So-fee-uh,' dum-dum," Luke said before Katy could answer.

"Don't call me a dum-dum, jerk-face!" Abby returned saucily.

"Luke! Don't be mean to your sister," Katy admonished before a full insult war could break out. "You were learning once, too. Abby!" The six-year-old at least had the sense to look guilty as Katy caught her with her tongue stuck out at her older brother.

"Sorry, Katy," the children said in unison as Katy pulled Abby down from the Mustang's bumper.

"It says, 'Sophia stay here we will come every day,'" Luke read. "What does that mean? Does it mean there are people here?"

Indecision shined clear on Katy's face as she judged what to tell the eager children before her. The message and supplies screamed danger in her wary mind, cautionary bells echoing through her brain. The provisions and note meant there were survivors nearby, and that screamed an intense warning to Katy. Meanwhile, the fact that the survivors who'd left the supplies cared enough to part with them for whoever this 'Sophia' person was told her that maybe these survivors weren't so bad as most she'd come across in the time since the world had gone to hell. A sense of duty and responsibility lurked in the shadows of Katy's reasoning, but she quashed it down quickly. No. That part of her was gone. Dead and buried while everything else dead was rising. If there was one thing of which Katy was certain now that the world had ended, it was that the rules of the old world no longer applied. People were dangerous, and too much of a flight risk when she had others to look out for. If these people really were going to come, she wanted to be out of the area long before they arrived.

"It means we're leaving," Katy finally said. "Luke, you and your sister take Brooklynn and these supplies back to the Humvee and get everything ready to leave. You know the drill. I'm gonna try to find a way through all this." With a nod, Luke tucked a blanket and flashlight into Brooklynn's carrier before bear-hugging the carrier as Abby grabbed the food and water handed to her by her guardian.

Katy then crept through the mass of vehicles, pulling her trusted Beretta from its holster before returning it to its spot on her thigh after a moment, instead pulling out her field knife. If she ran into any of the infected, they needed to be disposed of quietly. Setting her sights on her goal, Katy stalked through the mass of cars before her, her knife at the ready, until finally reaching a red and white semi. Stepping up to the abandoned truck's cab, she returned the blade in her hand to its sheath before clamoring up the side of the truck, hooking one leg over the side view mirror after getting a secure hold on the truck's roof. Her muscles protested against the atypical strain, but Katy grit her teeth as she hoisted herself atop the truck roof, climbing to her feet and using the height advantage to survey the traffic around her. What she saw was not encouraging.

The highway was blocked for what looked to be miles, with barely enough room to walk between many of the crowded vehicles, and some rested on the median and in the ditch, as if some people had looked to bypass the traffic snarl before whatever tragedy that had occurred had spurned them to abandon their vehicles. _All of these people must have been heading to Benning,_ she thought as she surveyed the jam. Soberly shaking her head, she climbed down and decided it'd probably be easier and faster to backtrack around the gridlock to continue on their way. Nodding to herself in approval of that plan, she moved to return to the Humvee, thinking through her mental log as to where she'd last stored her collection of maps, before freezing as she heard a long, low whistle from the direction of her vehicle.

Immediately recognizing the sound as the signal she'd taught Luke to inform her of someone approaching, Katy mumbled a curse to herself, sending a long, low whistle followed by three short, sharp tweets to tell Luke to hide and that she was on her way. Pulling her knife from its sheath on her belt once again as she jogged through the congestion of vehicles, Katy spied a light blue, older model pick-up approaching the blockade. A sickening ball roiling in her gut as a single thought—_people_—charged through her mind, the brunette put away her knife and pulled her Beretta from its holster. The nine millimeter pistol would be more effective against the living, particularly if she were to end up facing multiple targets. Making sure the safety was off as she quickly approached the Humvee, Katy crept toward the visitor's vehicle, virtually invisible among the abandoned cars.

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><p>"Hey, man, you see that?" Daryl asked as they approached the jammed section of highway where they'd left supplies for Sophia.<p>

Rick looked to where Daryl was pointing to see a military Humvee, complete with a turret on top, parked at the beginning of the maze of cars, its sand color standing out among the blacks, whites, and silvers of the other vehicles clogging the highway. "I don't remember that being here last time," Rick mused.

"'Cause it wasn't," Daryl drawled, loading a bolt in his crossbow as Rick pulled up near the Humvee. "You go get the supplies. I'm gonna check this out." Rick nodded as he cut the vehicle's engine, Daryl bailing out immediately. Rick followed suit, breaking toward where they'd left the supplies as Daryl approached the Humvee, crossbow drawn and ready to fire.

Cautiously stepping toward the vehicle with his crossbow at the ready, the first thing Daryl noticed was that it didn't look disused at all. Several bags and boxes full to bursting with dry goods and other survival gear rested in a pile by the Humvee's back tire, and the exhaust pipe still retained a bit of heat as he bent and placed a hand to the metal. The Humvee was windowless around the back, and thick, dark-tinted windows kept the hunter from seeing anything inside the vehicle. Curiosity and suspicion clawing at Daryl's insides, the man walked all the way around the vehicle, searching for any distinguishing marks before reaching for the handle to pop open the back hatch, freezing as he heard the familiar sliding clicks of a handgun being cocked.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to step away from that hatch."

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><p>AN: Again, thanks for reading! Please feel free to leave a review &/or some constructive criticism! :)

Lauren


	2. Chapter 2

**Revised/Updated 10/3/2013**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Keeping his eyes peeled for any movement that would suggest a wayward walker or other impending danger, Rick crept through the seemingly-endless expanse of cars until he found the tan classic Mustang emblazoned with the message to Sophia on the front windshield. Stepping up to the wide hood, Rick let the sense of confusion sink through his skull at the absence of the supplies the group had left for Carol's daughter. Checking around and under the vehicle and even going so far as to open the coupe's door and check if they'd been left inside the car, Rick took a step back and sighed as he placed his hands on his hips, frustrated at the lack of even the tiniest bit of evidence the provisions had ever been left. After a quick survey of the surrounding vehicles to see if the rations had been blown off the car by the wind and still coming up empty-handed, Rick decided to make his way back to the truck. Daryl had been present when the supplies had been left. If nothing else, perhaps the hunter would know where they had been placed or if they were missing, perhaps taken by passing survivors.

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><p>"I'm gonna have to ask you to step away from that hatch."<p>

His mind processing the distinctly female voice ringing around the clicks of a handgun behind him, Daryl whirled around, keeping his crossbow ready, and found a woman maybe a few years younger than him lined up in his crosshairs. "Who the hell are you?" the hunter demanded, pulling his face away from his crossbow's scope to get a better look at his challenger, the fact that she stood less than six feet in front of him making it impossible for his scope to focus.

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the woman who had somehow managed to sneak closer to him than anyone had accomplished in years. It was truly difficult to deterine her age with half her face hidden behind a large pair of reflective aviators, but the fact that she currently had what Daryl recognized as a nine millimeter Beretta levelled in his direction didn't have the hunter sorting her into the 'friend' category. A good six inches shorter than him at least, high, well-defined cheekbones, full lips set in a deep frown, and a set jaw gave Daryl the distinct impression that a scorching glare sat behind the woman's sunglasses, and the hunter didn't need to see the dog tags hanging around her neck to label the woman military.

"Who are _you_?" the woman returned, both hands steady on her weapon as she kept it leveled at Daryl. "Are you alone?"

"I asked first," the hunter insisted, immediately disliking the smooth authority in his challenger's voice.

"Yes, but you're snooping around _my_ vehicle," the former soldier pointed out. "So I suggest you lower that crossbow and start talking before my Humvee gets a new paint job."

"You drop yours an' I'll think about droppin' mine!" Daryl growled, wondering where Rick was when the hunter needed him.

"I really don't think you're in a position to bargain," the woman stated coolly, the squaring of her shoulders her only reaction to Daryl's snarl. "I pull this trigger, my bullet has you flatlining before you can even get me lined up in your scope."

"If ya say so." Daryl couldn't help the sarcastic rebuttal as he caught sight of Rick pulling a familiar revolver from its holster as the former cop crept around an old sedan just behind Daryl's challenger.

"Look, whoever-you-are," the woman began, switching her weight from one leg to the other as she sighed impatiently. "I'm really not in the mood to play cowboys versus indians, and I don't think blood red would coordinate well with my Humvee's color scheme. So just"—

"Drop your weapon!" Rick's voice cut off whatever the woman was about to say as he set the hammer on his revolver, lining the gun up with her ear as he stepped from his hiding place.

Daryl had assumed that when Rick made his appearance the woman would ease up, knowing she was outnumbered. However, that wasn't the case, though it seemed to be so at first. With Rick's revolver lined up with her skull, the woman appeared to surrender, going so far as to lower her gun, though the fact that it remained cocked wasn't lost on the keen-eyed redneck. It was then Rick made the mistake that changed the game once again. Seeing the stranger lower her gun, Rick began to lower his. In a move too fast for Daryl to quite catch or Rick to deflect, the woman had Rick's gun in hand along with her own, both aimed at the former sheriff.

The only thought in his head being to even the odds, Daryl lined up the shot with his crossbow, letting his arrow fly. The woman seemed to anticipate the shot, however, ducking so that the arrow flew over her head and simultaneously sweeping Rick's legs from under him, sending the former officer to the asphalt. Slinging his crossbow over one shoulder rather than waste precious moments trying to get it reloaded before their attacker could regain her feet, Daryl launched himself at the woman before him as she was in the process of standing, wrapping his arms around her neck in a tight chokehold. The action worked for a moment as the woman staggered back against the redneck, caught off guard and letting both handguns slip from her grip. After a moment, however, Daryl decided it hadn't been such a good idea as a sharp elbow knocked all the air from his lungs. His attacker wrenched herself from Daryl's loosened grip as he struggled for air, and then the hunter was seeing stars as the woman whirled to face him and thrust the heel of her hand into Daryl's nose.

"Holy fuck!" Daryl growled as he put a hand to his nose and felt the warm stickiness of gushing blood. Blinking the stars from his vision and catching sight of the woman behind the attack, Daryl suddenly saw red, not caring about guns or his crossbow as he lunged for the brunette with the aviators. "You bitch!"

"Daryl, that's enough!" Rick yelled, quickly lunging forward to hold the hotheaded man back, his calmer state allowing him to process the fact that the woman had regained both pistols and currently had one trained on each of their heads and displayed no hesitation in using them. "Let's calm down and figure this out!"

"The bitch bloodied my damn nose!" Daryl protested as blood continued to run freely down his chin, calming down being lowest on his current list of priorities. He didn't care if she was a woman or the Virgin Mary herself. She'd drawn first blood and Daryl would have no qualms about tangling with the soldier again. A smaller, disconnected part of his brain noted that the soldier had somehow gotten exactly what she wanted, their scuffle ending with her standing between Daryl & Rick and her Humvee.

"Next time I'll break it!" the woman promised, glaring at the two men as she rolled her neck to try to relieve the pain where Daryl had grabbed her. The hunter looked ready to charge at her again, regardless of the consequences, as he paced back and forth behind his partner, flexing his hands as if he wanted nothing more than to swing the crossbow on his shoulders around, load it, and send a bolt straight through the former soldier's heart…and probably would do exactly that if not for the pistol centered between his eyes.

"Look, there's been some kind of misunderstanding here," Rick began, not liking his own revolver trained on him.

"'Misunderstanding?'" The woman parroted with a scoff, a dark eyebrow rising above the gold frames of her sunglasses. "Is that what they're calling highway robbery these days?"

"We just stopped to pick up the supplies we left here," Rick insisted, gesturing to himself and Daryl, who still looked prepped to kill with the blood streaking down his chin as he glared at the woman before him. "We aren't here to hurt you!"

"Right. And I'm going to believe that after what just happened."

"Ya drew more blood than we did," Daryl pointed out as he waved at the guns with an angry flourish. "An' yer the one holdin' us at gunpoint."

"Look, neither of us are keen on dying for a few bottles of water and a flashlight," Rick continued, his arms raised in surrender. "It's obvious—"

The conversation was interrupted as a few quick thuds and muffled movement sounded from the Humvee, adding a muted bark a moment later. The woman looked decidedly uncomfortable as all attention was directed at the vehicle behind her, but her aim didn't waver from the men before her.

"The fuck was that?" Daryl demanded as he automatically took a step toward the sand-colored Humvee, freezing as the woman had both handguns on him before he'd even shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Don't even _think _about it," she warned, stepping back and adopting a strong stance to stand protectively in front of the Humvee's rear hatch, from which the sound had issued.

The standoff took an abrupt turn when the Humvee's hatch suddenly popped open and a blur of fur erupted from the vehicle's innards amidst a frantic cry of "Abby, no!" No one, not even the former soldier who claimed ownership of the Humvee, was prepared as a large German Shephed was suddenly standing in front of the woman, its hackles raised as it growled deep in its throat at the two men standing a few feet away and hastily moving back from the ferocious dog.

"Brutus, no!" the woman cried, slamming her Beretta into the holster on her thigh before crouching down and reaching for the snarling dog's collar. The dog immediately headed its mistress's call, turning from the two stangers as the woman scratched its ears soothingly, whispering quietly to the dog so that Rick and Daryl couldn't hear what she said.

"Hey." Rick started as Daryl tapped the former officer on the shoulder and nodded ahead of them, and followed the hunter's gaze away from the overprotective hound to where two round, childish faces peeked over the Humvee's tailgate.

"Oh, shit," Rick murmured, his eyes glued to the two pairs of blue eyes that watched him warily from inside the Humvee, understanding diffusing through his brain as the situation morphed once again.

Following Rick & Daryl's gazes to her Humvee's open hatch and the two curious children leaning out, the woman seemed to deflate as she stood from beside her dog, placing one last reassuring pat on its back. Wariness and distrust remained evident in her stance despite the fact that she kept Rick's revolver at her side rather than bringing it up against the men once again, and Rick decided the time for gambling or bluffing was over as the woman's brutal façade crumbled.

"Maybe we should start over," Rick noted, glancing between the woman and the two children as he stepped forward and held out his hand. "I'm Rick Grimes and this is Daryl Dixon."

The woman simply stared at Rick for a moment as if he'd grown a second head, finally seeming to decide she had nothing to lose since her cards had been laid out for all to see. Keeping Rick's revolver in her left hand, the woman brought her right hand up to shake Rick's. "Major Katherine Samuels," she said before motioning to the kids in the Humvee, who'd both propped their elbows up on the tailgate and were watching the events with fascination.

Starting with a boy who, Rick noticed, looked to be only a few years younger than Carl before moving to a little girl with a halo of blonde curls who actually smiled and waved as if this encounter were planned, Katherine presented her companions as Luke and Abagail. She then introduced the German Shepherd as Brutus, causing the hound to bark loudly at the sound of his name, before reaching into the Humvee. "And this is Brooklynn."

Rick froze, adopting a slack-jawed expression of disbelief as the woman he now knew as Katherine pulled a baby from the confines of the Humvee. She was the youngest survivor Rick had seen in his time wandering this harsh, new world. Despite the fact that his wife was pregnant, Rick had possessed some kind of mental block that young children didn't possibly thrive in this dark existence, but that notion flew far away at the sight of the baby edging toward toddlerhood smiling at him with chubby cheeks and giant blue eyes that seemed extremely alert and thoughtful. "Are they yours?"

"Do they look like they're mine?" Katherine retorted and Daryl bit back a snort. Even he could see that there was no way those kids were offspring of the soldier before him. The kids were Aryan as could be: blonde haired, blue eyed, and fair-skinned with sunburned cheeks. The woman before him was a brunette with a naturally dark hue to her skin. Though he couldn't see her eyes through her sunglasses, he'd guess they were brown. He may have been just some boy from the boondocks, but he knew enough about genetics to know there was no way in hell those three kids had any blood relation to their guardian. "I'm sorry," Katherine apologized as she realized how her response sounded. "That was rude. They aren't mine. I'm just keeping them safe."

"That's very noble of you," Rick said, acting as though her first reply had never happened.

"It shouldn't be," Katherine declared as she popped the tailgate on the Humvee, allowing Abagail and Luke to scoot forward and dangle their legs over the side while Katy pulled a child carrier forward and set Brooklynn inside. "Protecting the innocent should be first instinct for anyone. The world going to shit shouldn't change that."

"In any case," Rick continued, sensing bitterness from the woman before him as she set down his revolver to buckle the baby back into its carrier, "it's nice to meet you, Major Samuels."

"Just Katy," the woman corrected as she turned back around to face Rick and Daryl, a rag and jug of water in her hands. "Rank doesn't really matter much when there isn't a standing military, and teachers and grandparents were the only ones to call me Katherine unless I was in trouble."

"Here." Daryl reacted instinctively as a wet ball of navy fabric sailed toward his face, snatching the rag out of the air and making sure the soldier before him could tell how suspicious he was. She'd poured from the jug of water she was currently capping to dampen the rag as she'd spoken before sending it in the hunter's direction. "For your nose," she explained, gesturing to her own face in explanation.

Daryl began cleansing his jaw of the blood without a thank you or even a grunt of acknowledgement, his mind set on the fact that there wouldn't be blood all over his face if not for the woman before him, so she could take her concern or guilt or whatever it was that made her offer the rag and stick it where the sun didn't shine for all he cared. Running his thumb and forefinger gently over the bridge of his nose, he did decide, however, that it wasn't broken. He supposed he should be grateful for that at least, but was still most definitely wary of this woman and her truck-ful of kids.

"So, you guys part of a larger group camping 'round here somewhere?" Katy's tone was conversational as she joined her charges in perching on the Humvee's tailgate, but the fact that the former soldier still kept Rick's revolver beside her left thigh and didn't seem keen on returning it soon wasn't lost on Rick or Daryl. When the two men simply stared at her with obvious distrust, Katy felt the need to clarify, gesturing at the hand Rick rested on one hip. "It's just…you're wearin' a wedding band. And that truck doesn't look like it's bein' lived out of."

Rick looked down at the ring of gold circling the third finger of his left hand with a small chuckle, mentally praising the woman for her astute observation. "Yeah, we're from a larger group. Just out scouting." He looked up at the bags fastened to the Humvee's roof, the boxes and bags of scavenged belongings, and the promise of more gear lurking in the shadows filling the cargo area, noting it seemed like a lot of supplies for one adult and three children. "How 'bout you?"

"It's just us." Katy gestured to the children sitting patiently beside her and the dog at her feet. "We're heading south."

"South…Fort Benning?" Rick found himself asking, offset by the woman's ambiguous direction.

Katy scoffed and shook her head in response. "Benning is done for," she reported, and Rick was sure he didn't imagine the sad shadows in Luke and Abagail's faces. "We're just heading south 'til we find somewhere that isn't crawling with the infected. Somewhere safe."

"The infected?" Daryl spoke up from where he stood beside Rick, his face now cleansed of blood. "You make it sound like they're still people…like they've got a chance."

"What do you call 'em?" The former soldier asked, seeming genuinely curious.

"Walkers."

"Walkers," Katy repeated, as though tasting the word, finally shrugging. "It's definitely accurate." Everyone assembled jumped as a shrill beeping suddenly cut through the air, startling the crowd before they all turned to Katy, who'd pushed her left shirt sleeve up and was studying a large watch situated on her wrist. She sighed as she silenced the infernal chirping and rolled her sleeve back down, eyeing the men in front of her. "Look, this has been fun," she began, standing from her seat, "but me and my crew really need to get on the road."

She turned back and picked up the revolver still sitting on the tailgate, studying it intensly as she crossed the few feet to stand in front of the former officer. "This is a beautiful piece of weaponry," she said, holding the gun out to Rick, and the officer suddenly, desperately wished he could see the eyes hidden behind mirrored aviators and see what emotion lied there. Was it trust? Understanding? Acceptance? Instead, the officer collected the gun lying across Katy's palms. "Don't make me regret giving it back," the brunette quipped, and Rick returned the pistol to its holster with a small grin.

Rick watched as the children automatically hopped down from the Humvee's tailgate as Katy rejoined them, gathering the bags and boxes they'd piled by the truck's tire and bringing them to Katy to load inside the vehicle. Imagining those children forced to suffer through life on the road in this hellish world, with only a single, brave soldier to protect them, something snapped inside the former police officer. That ingrained sense of responsibility to protect the innocent beseiged his gut, and he stepped forward before he could rethink his actions. "Katy?"

"Problem, officer?" Katy's voice held a teasing lilt as she turned and faced Rick once again.

"Look," the former officer began. "Our group is holed up at a farm just up the road. We've got food, shelter, security…and enough room that you and these kids can get a good night's rest before you hit the road. Sound like something you might be interested in?"

Hesitation and surprise were evident in Katy's raised eyebrows and slack jaw, but before she could answer Rick was being pulled a few steps away and found himself face-to-face with an unhappy-looking Daryl Dixon. "Wut _the hell _do ya think yer doin'?!" the hunter demanded, his eyes fierce and grip tight on Rick's arm.

"Look at them, Daryl," Rick returned, his voice a harsh whisper. "One woman looking after three kids? What chance do they have on the road?!"

"They ain't our problem," Daryl insisted. "We got plenty of our own shit to worry 'bout without pickin' up anymore strays."

"Strays?!" Rick repeated indignantly, his voice nearly a hiss. "Those are children! Younger than Carl. Younger than Sophia." If looks could kill, Rick would've been dead on his feet from the daggers thrown from Daryl's eyes at the mention of the little girl the hunter had put so much into finding, but the former officer trudged on. "Can you really just send them out to die? Or worse?!" His voice softened. "I'm just tryin' to do the right thing here, Daryl."

"Did'ja already forget wut happened the last time ya 'tried to do the right thing'?!" The hunter gestured at the blue Ford he and Rick had used to travel to the highway and the small tuft of hair that was the only visible part of the prisoner who'd proven to be much more trouble than he was worth with the revelation of the dangerous group with which he'd traveled.

"Of course not!" Rick shook his head. "This is different."

"Yer right. It's worse," Daryl declared. He wasn't sure what made the sick feeling in his gut that this was a bad idea so strong, but he'd learned long ago to listen to such feelings. "Ya know one of the first rules of the wild? Don't mess with a predator an' her young. Those kids may not be hers physically, but it's the same deal. The bitch busted my nose just for lookin' at her truck. She won't hesitate to take out everyone on that farm if she smells sumthin' off, an' that includes yer boy."

"I'm not askin' her to set up shop, Daryl," Rick reminded the hunter. "I'm talkin' one night for them to rest and get their bearings."

Daryl scoffed. "Wutever. Yer gonna do watcha wanna do no matter wut. But when she kills someone an' this blows up in yer face, it's on _you_. I ain't pickin' up the slack this time."

"I ain't askin' you to."

Daryl nodded curtly and then he was pushing past Rick, striding over to the old blue pick-up and climbing in the passenger side without a backwards glance. With a heavy sigh, Rick turned his attention back to the soldier and children who had continued loading up the Humvee as the two men had argued and were now nearly finished, the woman resolutely pretending she hadn't eavesdropped on the conversation.

"Sorry," Rick said as he stepped up alongside the former soldier. "Where were we?"

"Look, Rick, I appreciate what you're trying to do; I really do," Katy began, placing her hands on her hips as she looked into crystalline blue eyes. "But I don't do groups and I'm not one for charity. Me and my crew will be fine."

"Don't look at it like charity," Rick returned, matching Katy's stance. "Think of it as"—he cast his eyes about and landed on the piles of supplies Katy possessed—"a business transaction."

"A business transaction?" Katy parroted skeptically. "What do you mean?"

"You've got a lot of supplies here," Rick noted, casting glances over all of Katy's belongings. "My people could probably use some of it. And I'm sure we have some stuff you could use. Everyone is happy."

"Your sidekick doesn't seem very happy," Katy put in, nodding at the hunter in the truck who'd refused to even contribute to the conversation.

"Yeah, well, Daryl never really seems happy about anything," Rick stated as he followed Katy's gaze over to the truck. "But he's the best hunter and tracker I've ever seen." He then looked back to the former soldier before him. "So, how 'bout it?"

* * *

><p>"She comin'?" Daryl asked simply as Rick climbed into the driver's seat of the blue pickup. His eyes didn't move from where he watched the soldier lift that little girl up inside the Humvee while the boy scrambled up on his own before their guardian was shutting them in once the German Shepherd had jumped inside as well.<p>

"Yeah," Rick stated simply as he started the truck.

"What about Randall?"

"We've lost too much daylight now. We'll take him out in the morning." Rick glanced over to catch the look of disbelieving frustration on the face of the man beside him, reminding him too much of Shane for it to be at all comfortable. "Calm down, Daryl. One more night won't make a difference."

Though he didn't voice his objection, Daryl severely disagreed with the man beside him. If there was one thing Daryl was sure of in the harsh world in which he lived, it was that one night could change absolutely everything. It had only taken one night for his brother to be taken from him, after all. One night for their camp to be destroyed. One night to go from working his ass off trying to find a little girl to having all the air sucked out of his chest as that little girl stumbled into view with the foggy glass eyes of the living dead. One night to go from taking out walkers to having the blood of a living, breathing man on his hands, mercy killing or not.

No, Daryl disagreed as they pulled away from the god forsaken highway clogged with death. One night could change everything.

* * *

><p>"What were you <em>thinking?!"<em> Katy cried as she slid the Humvee into gear and began following the blue pick-up ahead of her, glancing in her rearview mirror to see Luke looking miserable and Abby oblivious. "Just letting Brutus out like that? What if it had been the infected I'd been fighting when you started making all that noise?!"

"But I knowed it weren't monsters, Katy!" Abby replied. "I heared 'em talkin'!"

"Just because they're talking doesn't mean they aren't dangerous, Abby!" Katy was thoroughly exasperated with trying to explain the dangers of the world to a six-year-old child who saw the world in black and white. "There are bad people in this world, remember? If I or Luke tells you to hide, you hide. And you don't come out until one of us tells you to. You know that!"

"But Brutus didn't like those people yelling at you!" Abby cried, a dramatic tone to her voice. "He just wanted to help!"

"It doesn't matter!" Katy growled in frustration, slapping her steering wheel. "If I tell you to do something, you do it and you don't ask questions. Do you understand me, Abagail Schae?!"

"Yes, ma'am." Abagail finally looked thoroughly chastized as she realized just how upset Katy was, crawling forward and wrapping slim arms around Katy's shoulders before resting her head against the woman's upper arm. "I'm sorry, Katy."

"It's okay," Katy finally said tightly, taking one hand from the steering wheel to rest in Abby's blonde curls. "It just scares me when you do stuff like that. You _have_ to be careful. Now, go sit with your brother so I can focus on finding this farm."

"Do you think they have horsies on their farm?" Abby quickly breezed past being in trouble as she planted herself by her brother and picked up her favorite stuffed bunny, snuggling it to her chest. "I like horsies."

"I dunno, Abby," Katy replied patiently.

"What about duckies? D'ya think they'll have those?"

Katy sighed as she turned onto a dirt road behind the pick-up before answering Abby once again that no, she didn't know if there were ducks on their farm, rolling her eyes as Abby continued asking farm-related questions.

_Here we go._


	3. Chapter 3

**Revised/Updated 10/3/13**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

As Glenn cut the engine to Dale's RV, having pulled up to his assigned side of the house, a distinct rumbling reached his ear. "You hear that?" he asked the blonde in the passenger seat, pausing as he listened, the sound growing louder.

"Hear what?" Andrea asked, not hearing anything aside from hammers as other members of the group secured the house.

"Listen!" Glenn hissed. Andrea quieted and, sure enough, heard a loud rumbling that seemed to be growing in volume. "What is that?"

"Sounds like an engine," Andrea guessed. "Diesel?" She was immediately out of her seat, grabbing Dale's old binoculars before exiting the RV and scanning the surrounding area. She finally found the source of the offending sound that had now drawn the attention of more than just her and Glenn. "Well I'll be damned!"

"What is it?" Glenn asked as Shane approached them with a bewildered look on his face. Andrea obligingly handed Glenn the binoculars, gesturing in the proper direction for the Asian to look.

"Am I seein' what I think I'm seein'?" Shane asked from beside them.

"If you think you're seeing Daryl and Rick being followed by a Humvee," Andrea began, her tone revealing disbelief and uncertainty, "then yes, you're seeing exactly what you think you are."

"I think I'm seein' trouble, that's what I think," Shane said as the two vehicles turned up the driveway. He then turned and stalked over to stand in front of the rest of the group, who had all crawled from the woodwork as the Humvee's unfamiliar rumblings caught their attention.

* * *

><p>Katy's hands tightened on the wheel as she caught sight of the farm she would call home for the night. Her eyes then turned to the various people scattered across the lawn and on the front porch of the house. <em>There are so many<em>! she thought to herself. _And if they're all like Rick, they'll be decent people._ The idea caused hope to stir in her chest as she killed the engine, but she squashed it deep down inside. People were not to be trusted, no matter how decent they seemed. Trying to ignore Abby's excited chatter behind her, Katy waited for any kind of signal from Rick, rolling down her window as he approached.

"I need you guys to stay put for a minute," the man said with a small grin as Abby leaned over the seats and waved at him with a bright smile. "Just long enough for me to fill everyone in. That alright?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Katy returned with a shrug, figuring there was nothing much else she could do other than restart her vehicle and put the farm and its occupants in her rearview mirror.

With a smile and a nod, Rick strode away from the Humvee, leaving Katy to wait. Her gaze naturally shifted forward, her eyes widened as she was just in time to see Daryl roughly pull a bound and blind-folded figure from the bed of the pick-up, and suddenly getting the hell out of Dodge didn't seem like such a bad idea. Nervousness began eating at the hope that had begun to develop despite Katy's attempts to squash it. Surely Rick wouldn't invite her here only to let his people treat her like the figure before her? Katy made up her mind to keep a keen eye on everything going on around her, bolting for the highway the moment she felt threatened or noticed anything off about the people around her. As the gruff redneck dragged his victim out of sight, Katy turned her attention to Rick and the two men he was conversing with, the fact that her window was still down enabling her to hear all that was said.

* * *

><p>"What the hell is this, Rick?!" Shane demanded as his former partner approached. "You went to turn the prisoner loose and now you're back with the prisoner <em>and<em> more people?! Your plan hit a snag?"

"We ran across some survivors on the highway," Rick explained calmly. "We—"

"So you brought 'em back like a couple o' stray dogs?" Shane demanded.

"I made a call," Rick said firmly, directing a stern glare at the man before him. "Accept that." Rick then pushed past his former partner, focusing his attention on Hershel, who stood on the second step of the porch. "Look, it's just for one night. They've got a bunch of supplies we need, and in return they get a good night's sleep and a hot meal. They'll be on their way first thing in the morning, no harm done."

"Yeah," scoffed Shane from over Rick's shoulder. "No harm done 'til they go tell any others they come across 'bout us an' give 'em our exact location! An' what about the prisoner? He just gonna stay another night, too?"

"One more night won't hurt anything," Rick reasoned, turning slightly to keep both Hershel and Shane in sight. "Daryl already agreed to go with me first thing in the mornin' to turn 'im loose."

"Well, that's just brilliant!" Shane retorted, bringing a hand up to wipe his mouth as he glared at his friend in disbelief. "I'm glad _Daryl_ is bein' so damn agreeable! That's—"

"Who are they?" Hershel interrupted, his patience for Shane's tirade running thin.

"The woman was an Army officer," Rick explained quickly, placing his hands on his hips as he looked up at the aging patriarch. "She's got three kids with her. A boy a bit younger than Carl an' two younger girls." A heavy silence hung over the assembled survivors as they processed Rick's clarification, some of them glancing toward the Humvee despite the window tint being too dark to see anything.

"Damn it, Rick!" Shane thundered. "Like we don't got enough people to protect?! You know how much extra watchin' it's gonna take to keep three kids in line? We might as well"—

"We're crowded as it is," Hershel began after a moment of thought, cutting off the hot tempered former deputy once again. "And you know how I feel about strangers. But if it's just one night…I'll trust your call on this, Rick."

With a nod, Rick turned and sent a beckoning wave toward the Humvee, everyone waiting with bated breath as the driver's side door opened and a figure climbed down. All the group could see was a pair of tan combat boots and the beginning of camouflage pants as the figure moved around the side of the Humvee to the rear hatch. As it opened, a loud bark startled several of the assembled, a much too normal sound for the end of the world, and they watched as a German Shepherd bolted from the Humvee, running circles around the vehicle before sprinting to investigate its new surroundings. The group turned its attention back to the vehicle as their new visitors came into view, the woman with the baby on one hip and the little girl clinging to her opposite hand, the boy following a step behind after shutting the hatch once everyone was out of the vehicle.

* * *

><p>Katy sighed as she strode toward the porch of an old, white-and-green farmhouse that was both familiar and foreign, stirring up buried memories. Following Rick's lead and focusing her attention on the elderly patriarch the former officer had reported to, assuming this was the man she'd have to win over, Katy bypassed the mountain of a man Rick had first spoken to, ignoring the angry suspicion he directed at her. Casting her eyes all about behind her sunglasses, the woman counted thirteen survivors assembled around her, and her breath hitched at such an unfortunate number before she realized the hunter from the highway—Daryl, her brain supplied—had yet to return from wherever he'd dragged the unfortunate prisoner. Fourteen. That wasn't so bad.<p>

"Hi. Katy Samuels," she introduced herself as she pulled up short at the base of the farmhouse's brick porch, looking up at the man two steps above her as she released Abby's hand in order to extend her own.

"Hershel Greene," the man returned, clutching her hand in a firm handshake. "Rick said you were military. What rank?"

"Major. But it doesn't really seem so important at the end of the world."

"A rank is earned," Hershel replied firmly as he released Katy's hand with a nod. "End of the world or not, it's a title of respect. So long as you're here, I'll take to callin' you by it."

Katy simply nodded, vaguely wondering if perhaps the patriarch before her was a veteran, before motioning to the baby gurgling on her hip and the children looking wide-eyed at their surroundings. "This is Luke, Abby, and Brooklynn. And that's Brutus." She waved to the dog darting around sniffing at all the different vehicles and people.

"Is he aggressive?" Hershel requested warily, eyeing the snooping hound. "There're livestock on this farm and I won't have 'im stirring 'em up or slaughterin' my chickens."

"No, sir," Katy returned immediately with a fervent shake of her head. "He's very well trained, and won't hurt anything. He doesn't even dig; he's just curious. I'd be willing to restrain him if it would make you more comfortable…just to be on the safe side. We're not looking to mess up any of y'all's arrangements."

"That won't be necessary, Major," Hershel declined. "I'll take your word for it. Just respect our rules and the way things are done 'round here and you're welcome to stay for the night."

"Thank you, sir," Katy began with a small smile. "I appreciate the hospitality. We'll be on our way first thing in the mornin'. Earlier, if you'd like."

Hershel nodded and motioned the four survivors forward. "Come on in and we'll find you somethin' to eat an' show you where you can wash up." He eyed the gun and holster visible on Katy's thigh as she stepped forward. "I'm gonna hafta ask that you leave any weapons outside before you come in."

No one was surprised when Katy nodded and unstrapped her holster from around her thigh; as the leader and protector of her group, it was expected for her to be armed. Surprise was clear on several faces, however, when Katy set down the child on her hip and took a gun and a switchblade Luke pulled from the waistband of his jeans and his back pocket. Able to maneuver more freely with the baby out of her arms, the soldier proceeded to remove a sheathed knife from her belt. Rick struggled to hide his shock as Katy next turned her attention to Abby, the dainty six-year-old pulling another switchblade from her pocket and handing it off to her guardian as though it were perfectly normal for a child to be wielding a knife before she'd lost her first tooth.

"You guys go on inside," Katy instructed, nudging the children toward the porch and the blonde woman who'd stepped forward with an outstretched hand to help the children up the stairs. "I'll be right behind you." With that, she moved back in the direction of the Humvee, Luke grabbing Brooklynn's hand and Abby grabbing the woman's as they cautiously navigated the porch stairs.

* * *

><p>"So what would you like to eat?" Lori asked, standing before the three children with her hands on her hips. The oldest stood in the middle, one hand clutching each of his sisters' as he looked warily around the large kitchen, and Lori's heartstrings ached at the watchful suspicion this new world had forced the boy to adopt.<p>

"Pancakes and macaroni & cheese!" Abby squealed immediately, not suffering the same reserve as her older brother. "Or chicken! Or—"

"Don't give her options," Katy advised, entering the kitchen with a small duffel bag slung over one shoulder and cutting the child off with a hand clasped gently over her mouth. "She'll eat anything you put in front of her. But if you give her options she's the most indecisive kid ever."

"Alright," Lori began, turning to the refrigerator. "Chicken it is."

Concern burned through Rick's synapses as Katy removed the duffel bag from her shoulder and pushed her aviators to perch atop her head, revealing slightly bloodshot eyes and extremely dark circles underneath. _How long has it been since she had a decent night's sleep?_ Rick wondered, remembering the attention Carl had required when he was younger. The former cop couldn't imagine looking after three children, not now that the world burned, and especially not traveling alone with no one to watch your back.

"You can use the bathroom upstairs if you want to shower," Rick informed the obviously exhausted brunette. "We don't have much, but the water's hot."

"Dear God, I was beginning to think I'd never hear those words again!" Katy exclaimed, eliciting amused grins and chuckles from the congregated survivors that had followed their guests inside. Katy then dove into her duffel bag, pulling out a bundle of clothes and various toiletries. "Luke, why don't you go first?" she suggested, catching the boy's attention.

"Yes!" the child exclaimed excitedly, releasing his sisters' hands to scoop up the supplies Katy was holding.

"Make it snappy," Katy warned, causing the boy to pause in his rush for the stairs. "And don't forget behind the ears!"

"I know, I know!" Luke cried indignantly, continuing his bolt up the stairs. _This is the world we live in now,_ Rick supposed as he watched the boy disappear. _A world where the thing that gets people the most excited is the idea of running water._

Katy shook her head as her young charge vanished, a small smile on her face before Hershel's voice caught her attention. "I think we might still have an old highchair stored down in the basement," the patriarch revealed, his eyes dropping to the infant who'd toddled across the kitchen to latch onto Katy's leg. "Maggie, why don't you go look?"

"That's really not necessary," Katy protested as a young woman with choppy brown hair seperated herself from the survivors.

"Of course it is," Hershel insisted, sending his daughter a nod of confirmation. "You're a guest. Anything we can do to make things easier will be done."

"Because that's why it's called southern hospitality, right?" Katy said with a small chuckle. Hershel nodded and Katy returned her attention to the duffel bag, digging through and pulling out fresh clothes for Brooklynn, Abby, and herself. She remained focused on her task until she could no longer stand the heavy silence that plagued the room after Hershel had sent Maggie on her task_. It's always the same,_ she mused. _Whether you plan on staying for one night or one year, they always have to know. "_You might as well ask," she finally stated. "I guarantee my answers will prove inadequate, but I know you're all wondering."

"Alright, fine," the same bear of a man Rick had tangled with when Katy had first arrived began when everyone else seemed reluctant. "Did you come from Benning?"

"And who are you?" Katy couldn't help but ask. The man before her was intense, exuding a—from what Katy could tell and had experienced thus far—false sense of authority and self-righteousness.

"Shane Walsh," the man returned, reaching out his hand for Katy to shake.

The former soldier ignored the outstretched appendage, instead studying the male before her. She'd faced his kind before, put them in their place on multiple occasions. Men that thought they had all the answers and knew exactly what they were doing and felt that everyone else should just fall in line. Basic training was always full of them. Katy had never liked the arrogance, the overly-high testosterone levels, and had always relished putting such men in a situation where everything was falling apart around them regardless of what they did. It was probably sick, but some of Katy's greatest feelings of satisfaction had come in watching men like Shane Walsh realize their own insignificance, that they were no more important than the soldier next to them, no better, no worse. Such men could be dangerous, but it was nothing Katy hadn't seen before. She could definitely handle Shane Walsh. "Yeah, I was based at Benning," she finally said as Shane dropped his hand. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything!" the former officer exclaimed immediately.

"We heard Benning was over-run," Rick added, choosing to be more specific. "And then you said the fort was done for. What did you mean?"

Katy sighed heavily, and Rick thought she suddenly looked positively ancient, like someone who had seen way too many horrors over their lifetime and struggled with the weight of them all. He felt terrible for the questions he knew his group had. As a member of the armed forces, Katy had most certainly been buried in the thick of everything when the world went to hell. He didn't even want to imagine the atrocities the soldier must've lived through, but his group needed to know. They had to ask.

"Benning was over-run. _Was_," Katy emphasized, turning and leaning back against the table she stood beside as if it could support the weight of what she knew. "It has since been leveled." She fixed her gaze on the survivors before her, catching each one of them in the eye. "Fort Benning doesn't exist anymore."

"What do you mean it doesn't exist anymore?!" Shane's voice rose into a roar. "What about Atlanta? What about the safe zones the government and military were supposed to have?"

"They're all gone," Katy returned calmly, shaking her head. "Nothing worked the way it was supposed to work. No one predicted the infection would be so strong and spread so quickly. All our safe guards and strategies failed." She paused for a moment, flashes of the horrors she'd witnessed in those first days of hell running through her memory. "My unit was in charge of guarding communications for as long as possible. I heard all the transmissions going in and out up until Benning fell. Everywhere was the same. People lied about being infected. Naturally, the medical teams were the first to fall. The infection spread too fast to contain, even with all our firepower. People—walkers— fell and got right back up. Command was over-run soon after medical, and then everything officially became chaos. With the chain of command gone, it was every man for himself. Fact is there were more guns than there were people to use them; the walkers out-numbered us fifteen to one. The last transmission I heard was an order to bomb anywhere and everywhere that reported being over-run, regardless of collateral damage. After that I got outta there as fast as I could."

"So…there's nothing left anywhere?"

The voice came from a young Asian man who looked to be several years younger than Katy herself, and the former soldier hated herself for having to deal such a devastating blow. "Nothing I've been able to find. No transmissions, no reports…" Katy trailed off, meeting the sad, disappointed gazes of the survivors around her and watching as the last bit of hope they'd had ebbed away, feeling sick despite her promise to herself to avoid people. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring you better news."

* * *

><p>As she eagerly devoured the small but delicious meal before her, Katy sent a small thank you to whatever force had sent this patch of good luck her way. Her body freshly clean and much of the tension in her muscles gone thanks to the first hot shower to hit her skin in a good, long while, Katy couldn't think of much that would make this moment better. Choosing to stay silent for the most part, Katy watched in contentment as the two children she'd taken under her wing munched happily at the delicacy that was a hot meal. True to his calm, observant nature that he got from his father, Luke focused on his food, only speaking if spoken to or to expand on something Abby was saying. The effervescent child who got her bubbly personality from her mother had hardly stopped talking since she'd emerged from her bath, save for taking bites of the chicken before her.<p>

Most of the survivors had returned to their various activities and chores, but the women Katy now knew as Rick's wife Lori and Carol, who didn't seem to be related to any of the other survivors and so Katy wasn't quite sure where she fit in, were content to remain enraptured as the little girl told them all about her favorite animals, toys, and games. As she listened to Abby telling a story about something so simple as Luke teaching her to whistle, Katy understood the women's entrancement. Abby was a breath of fresh air, a reminder of the innocence and good things that had once been part of the world and seemed so hard to find now. The girl represented a hope everyone had that something good could still come out of the hellish environment they found themselves in. _That, and Abby is a damn good storyteller_, Katy thought as Abby's expressions and tone of voice changed with her tale, her hands waving through the air to expand on her story.

"How old is she?" Katy's attention was pulled from her own plate to where Brooklynn sat perfectly content in an ancient wooden highchair, squealing and holding food-covered hands out toward the middle-aged woman with cropped salt-and-pepper hair who'd pulled a chair up in front of the highchair.

"Fifteen months," Katy answered, wondering at the sad mystification lining Carol's face.

"She's beautiful," the woman breathed with a small smile. "So sweet and happy."

"She's a mess is what she is," Katy said fondly, picking up a damp rag she'd set by her plate and swiping a filthy hand as Brooklynn reached toward her guardian. "Can't keep her clean for nothin'."

The child began to squirm as Katy worked to remove the goo from her hands and mouth, but the former soldier was determined and, after a few moments of struggle, Brooklynn was food-free once again and reaching a tiny hand out to grip Carol's index finger. The older woman looked ready to say something, but before she could footsteps were pounding into the kitchen and Katy was jerking around, fearing the worst. She released the breath she was holding as Lori's son Carl was the one to come thundering in, pulling up short and breathing heavily with his hands clasped in front of him

"Mom! Mom! Look what I caught!" the boy cried, holding up his hands.

"Carl Richard Grimes, if you've brought something alive into this house I want it outside right now!" Lori ordered, her voice rising in volume. "I don't wanna see it, just get it out!" The boy standing in front of his mother looked disappointed, but Lori held firm, pointing toward the door, and Carl reluctantly turned to leave.

"Can I see?" Katy turned at Luke's voice, small and uncertain, to find him looking at Carl with a small grin. Lori's son shrugged and stepped up to the table, opening a small slit in-between his hands so Luke could see inside. With a single glance of beady eyes, Katy was turning away from the spectacle, but braced herself for what she knew was coming. "Katy, can I go play with Luke?"

Ah, there it was. Katy looked back to find both boys staring at her expectantly, matching blue eyes pleading for her permission. The former soldier glanced down to see that Luke's plate was empty, and could find no reason to hold him back, and so she found herself nodding. "But stay within shouting distance," she insisted as the two boys erupted in a successful cry as Luke jumped from his seat. Luke nodded frantically and then the boys were off, Carl sharing something about a woodpile as they shot through the screen front door. Katy simply shook her head in amusement as she turned back to her lunch.

"I don't mean to pry,"—Katy looked up to see Lori fixing her with a look of curiosity mixed with apprehension—"but Luke didn't call you 'Mom' or 'Aunt.' Where are their parents?"

Katy sighed. And there it was again. "Abby, why don't you go find Brutus? I bet he'd love a good round of fetch." The blonde nodded, leaving her empty plate as she, too, left the kitchen, leaving only Katy, Carol, Lori, and a gurgling Brooklynn.

"Luke, Abby, and Brooklynn's father was a Colonel at Benning…my commanding officer," Katy revealed, setting her jaw and accepting the stares she was receiving. "Their mother was a teacher. When the fort got over-run…they didn't make it out." Katy carried the dishes to the sink, closing her eyes against flashes of warm laughter, sparkling blue eyes, and the smell of roses as she rinsed the plates off before submerging them in the soapy water Carol had run. "I promised them, if anything were to happen, that I'd take care of their kids. Keep them safe."

The story sounded bare to Katy, missing so much detail. So much pain and terror. The women behind her didn't seem to care, however, both quietly apologizing, and Katy pictured shaking hands held over open mouths as she set to scrubbing the few dishes her crew had dirtied. "Who hasn't lost someone they cared about in this new world?" Katy mused, shaking off Lori and Carol's apologies. "You get over it and move on."

"Still, it must be hard trying to look out for them. All by yourself?"

"I manage." Was Katy's nearly mono-syllabic response to Lori's concern as she continued scrubbing, wrist-deep in bubbles.

"Well, let us do something to help," Lori suggested, placing what the former soldier was sure was meant to be a comforting hand on Katy's shoulder. "Why don't you go get some rest? You look like you could use it."

"No, I'm fine," Katy returned with a shake of her head. "But thanks for the concern."

"You _need _some rest," Lori insisted, taking the soapy dishes from the tired soldier, rinsing them, and placing them in the dish drainer. "You look dead where you stand. How long has it been since you've gotten a full night's sleep?"

"Too long," Katy finally admitted with a sigh, running a hand over her face.

"Then go rest." At Katy's skeptical expression, the petite brunette continued, "I understand you wanna watch out for those kids, but you're no good to them if you're passed out from exhaustion."

"But- the kids—"

Lori chuckled and gestured to where Carol had taken the liberty of freeing Brooklynn from her highchair, the well-fed infant looking on the verge of sleep as she snuggled against the woman's chest. "I'm sure Carl will keep Luke occupied, Carol's got Brooklynn handled, and I'll round up Abby. It's been a while since Carl was that young, but it's like ridin' a bike. Get some sleep and let yourself stop worrying just for a few hours."

After several long moments of studying the genuine concern lining Lori's face and the way Carol swayed gently as Brooklynn dozed on her shoulder and struggling with her own protective and distrustful instincts, Katy finally nodded her consent. "I'll be in the Humvee. Don't hesitate to come get me if"—

"I'm sure everythin' will be fine," Lori interrupted. "If somethin' happens, I promise we'll come get you. Otherwise, if we don't see you before then, we'll wake you up when dinner's ready."

With a nod and heavy sigh, Katy fought the trepidation burning through her veins and forced herself out of the house and to her Humvee, her eyes already heavy with the thought of uninterrupted sleep.

* * *

><p>As Rick entered the house, the delicious smell of baked goods and cooking meat reached his nose. Taking a large whiff and letting the comfortable air permeate and revitalize his body, his mouth watered as he took stock of everyone present, finding Daryl, Shane, and Katy to be the only ones missing. Making his way to the dining room, he found his wife occupied with setting all of the food out on the table while Maggie and Beth worked to set up a smaller, secondary table off to one side.<p>

"Smells amazing," Rick said as he approached his wife, giving her a swift kiss on the cheek. "Where's Katy?" he asked as he spied Abby 'helping' Carol with dinner and Patricia lowering a happily cooing Brooklynn into a highchair.

"We sent her out to the Humvee to rest," Lori informed her husband. "I told her we'd get her when dinner was ready. Can you take care of that while I finish this up?"

With a nod, Rick retraced his steps to the living room, seeing Daryl come through the door right behind an excited Carl and Luke. "Dad! Look what we caught!" Carl cried, making a beeline for his father.

"Daryl," Rick called as he quickly realized he was about to get side-tracked from his task. "Can you go get Katy? Lori said she's in the Humvee and dinner's 'bout ready." With a quick nod, the gruff man turned and left through the door he'd just entered, leaving Rick to grin in amusement as he turned his attention to the two boys before him as they opened their hands to reveal two terrified lizards.

* * *

><p>Mentally grumbling about why he had to be the one to go tell G.I. Jane that naptime was over, Daryl approached the Humvee cautiously, not quite sure what to expect and thus deciding to be ready for anything. The woman's dog lay sleeping by the back tire, but lifted its head to watch Daryl approach. The hunter couldn't help but give the dog a scratch behind its ears as it rose to its feet. He'd always liked dogs, and it wasn't its fault that its owner was most likely psychotic. The German Shepherd returned the greeting with a friendly lick, loyally planting itself at Daryl's feet when the hunter came to a standstill in front of the hatch. With a sigh, the redneck opened the door, wondering how he always got volunteered for these jobs as he was met with a now-familiar click.<p>

"That's the second time today you've had that thing in my face," Daryl growled as his eyes struggled to adjust to the dim lighting in the Humvee. "Make up yer damn mind an' either shoot me or find someone else to point it at."

"Sorry," Katy said sheepishly, immediately uncocking and lowering the Beretta she'd had aimed right between Daryl's eyes. "Knock next time."

Daryl didn't acknowledge the woman's apology, instead finding his curiosity piqued as he studied the Humvee's interior. Katy reclined on what looked to be a double mattress just in front of him, propped up on one elbow with her Beretta now abandoned on the blankets beside her. Boxes and bags Daryl assumed were full of supplies rimmed the mattress, filling the cargo area up to the driver's seat. He thought he saw a small generator toward the front of the cab, but couldn't be sure. The cab was stuffed completely full, and the hunter's mind spun at the thought of the survival gems most likely buried before him. "You've got ahelluva set up here."

"Yeah, well, if you'd asked me before the world went to shit where the best place to be durin' a crisis was, I'd've said an army base," Katy informed, sitting up fully with a groan as she planted her hands at the small of her back and arched until a loud crack issued from her spine. "So did you get put on wake-up duty? I assume since you're here either Abby is causing havok or dinner is done. And I really hope it's the latter."

"Dinner's ready," Daryl stated simply, leading Katy to immediately clamor out of the hatch to stand at his side. Daryl didn't wait for Katy to secure her vehicle before he was heading inside, his stomach growling with the teasing whiff of a hot meal he'd enjoyed before he'd been sent on his errand.

As he stepped back inside the Greene farmhouse, Katy not far behind, he found everyone already crowded around the table laden with food. Rick noticed the pair come in and threw Daryl a grateful nod, which the hunter returned with an acknowledging nod of his own before squeezing into the spot left for him between Carol and Hershel's daughter Beth, correctly assuming the spot next to the kid in the highchair was for Katy.

Rick took a moment to scrutinize Katy as she took her seat. While he knew it would take more than a couple-hours-long nap to get rid of the exhaustion in Katy's face, the former sheriff was glad to see that her eyes were no longer bloodshot as she accepted the bowl of green beans Hershel offered her and began shuffling the various plates through the line with everyone else.

"Hey, where's Shane?" Glenn asked once everyone had their food and had fallen into conversation.

"He's probably finishing setting the windmill up for a lookout and lost track of time," Andrea suggested as all eyes fell on the single empty chair at the table.

"I'm sure he'll come wanderin' in before too long," Rick said, everyone turning contentedly back to their food. "That man has a sixth sense for the dinner bell."

* * *

><p>Shane sat in front of the miserable young man hand-cuffed in the shed, his mind racing a thousand miles per hour. This idiot shouldn't have been there. He should've been an hour away. In Shane's personal opinion, he should've been dead and buried six feet under where he couldn't cause anyone anymore problems. Once again, Rick had gone back on his plan, endangering everyone's lives without thought to the consequences. He'd endangered his own wife and son! The thought sent anger burning through Shane's veins. He couldn't let this continue. He had to take care of the problem right then and there. Everyone might be mad at first, but eventually they'd see that Shane had made the best decision that could be made under the circumstances. A decision necessary to keep the group safe. Unlike Rick, he could do what needed to be done. He stood and moved to stand before the man, pulling his gun from the waistband of his pants and aiming for the prisoner's head.<p>

A clinging of metal distracted Shane for a moment and he jerked the man forward to investigate. Finding Randall's wrists raw and bleeding, Shane threw him back against the wall with a scoff. The little bastard was trying to slip the cuffs! The problem definitely needed to be taken care of immediately.

A thought suddenly struck Shane with the force of a ten-ton truck. A dangerous and scary thought. It crawled through Shane's synapses and burrowed in, refusing to be shaken. The longer it lingered, the more sense it began to make. _Can I cross that line? _Shane thought. His mind then turned to when he'd left Rick at the hospital when the apocalypse had first begun. It then shifted to when he'd killed Otis, through the episode with the walkers in the barn and back to his and Rick's fight at the walker-infested public works lot barely a day before. He realized he'd crossed that line a long time ago. That line didn't exist for him anymore. It hadn't for a long time. There were only decisions and the results of those decisions. And this was a decision Shane felt he could live with.

* * *

><p>"We should take a plate out to Randall," Carol suggested as the women worked to put the food away after dinner. Lori and Maggie looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. "He's being released first thing tomorrow. We can't just starve him! That's worse than shooting him!"<p>

"If you make a plate I'll take it to him," T-Dog volunteered as he entered the kitchen to give Katy, who'd undertaken wash duty despite everyone's protests, another stack of dishes. With a nod, Carol quickly fashioned a small plate of food T-Dog could easily feed the prisoner, sending him out the door.

Within minutes, T-Dog was back in the house, huffing and puffing as though he'd run a marathon. "He's gone!" he cried, the panic in his voice catching everyone's attention. "Randall's escaped!"

A flurry of activity erupted as everyone rushed outside. "Stay here!" Katy said to Abby before turning to Luke. "Watch your sister." With that, she followed the group outside, stopping on the bottom step of the porch as everyone else surged toward a small shed several yards away. As a guest, she didn't want to get involved in their business, but she did want to know what was going on.

Katy was listening to the group try to figure out how the prisoner had escaped when she noticed Shane coming from the woods, blood covering his jaw and pouring from his nose. After listening to him bellow for a few moments, everyone was returning to the house save for Daryl, Glenn, Rick, and Shane, who were heading into the woods to try to find their lost prisoner. Katy lingered on the porch for a few minutes before following everyone in so they could secure the house. Something didn't feel right.

"I don't understand," Katy began once the house was locked down and everyone was situated in the living room. "Why is the guy that escaped such a threat to you?"

"It's not him that's the threat," T-Dog explained. "It's the group he traveled with." He proceeded to explain the circumstances surrounding the man known as Randall, Katy listening attentively in order to understand the situation she was finding herself in.


	4. Chapter 4

**Revised/Updated 10/3/13**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

Katy perched uneasily on a couch in the Greene family living room, each passing minute heightening her urge to either run out to her Humvee and take off or punch something and scream. She wished she could be as calm as the children serving as her companions, as Abby and Luke lay sprawled in the living room floor with coloring books while Brooklynn played with an old set of keys one of the Greenes had pulled out for her, but years of honed instincts didn't allow for such oblivion. The watch at her wrist told her it'd been over an hour since the house had morphed into a panic upon learning a prisoner had escaped, and now the majority of the survivors were scattered around the same living room she sat in, burrowed in a tense silence that no one seemed willing to break and only served to heighten Katy's anxiety.

"I'm going after them." The voice belonged to a tall blonde that Katy had learned was named Andrea, and the former soldier mused the woman could've been named Satan and she'd still bow down and kiss her feet in gratitude for splitting the apprehensive silence.

"Don't," came Lori's rebuttal from where she was curled up in a wing-backed chair, causing Andrea to pause once she'd stood. "They could be anywhere. And if Randall comes back, we're gonna need you here."

Andrea seemed to agree, though reluctantly, and went to return to her seat until the echo of a slamming screen door reverberated through the house and everyone was on their feet as Daryl and Glenn stepped into the living room, covered in dirt and sweat but otherwise no worse for wear.

"Rick & Shane ain't back yet?" Daryl kept his crossbow at the ready as he paused in the doorway, blatantly ignoring Hershel's 'no weapons in the house' preference and scanning the room's occupants in search of the group's leader.

"No?" Lori replied, and Katy knew she wasn't imagining the poorly-masked panic in the woman's voice.

"We heard a shot," Daryl revealed. Katy froze, concerned that she hadn't heard anything, and kept her eyes on the hunter, eagerly drinking in anymore information he had as her body instinctually went on high alert.

"Well, maybe they found Randall," Lori said logically.

Daryl scoffed. "No, we found him."

"Is he back in the shed?" It was Maggie's voice that rang out, and everyone waited with bated breath for the assurance that their sense of security had been returned to them.

"He's a walker." It was only three words, but the meaning behind them meant there was suddenly no air in the room as every eye widened.

"Did you find the walker that bit him?" Hershel inquired, attempting to stay calm and keep the situation under control as poorly-concealed panic crept onto nearly every face in the room

"No," Glenn said, and the tension jumped a few more notches. "Weird thing is he wasn't bit."

"His neck was broke," Daryl added.

"So, he fought back." It was Patricia who cut in this time, her voice even and logical.

Daryl shook his head, his face full of doubt. "Thing is, Shane & Randall's tracks were right on top of each other. And Shane ain't no tracker, so he didn't come up behind him. No, they were together."

"So, then, Shane killed Randall." The room's occupants looked to Katy as if she'd grown a second head, and the former soldier mentally cursed herself for speaking without thinking. These people were still so clueless, and she'd already dropped so many bombs on them.

"That's a very serious accusation," Lori declared, turning on Katy with fire in her eyes, and the soldier hunkered down for a brutal tongue-lashing.

"And it still doesn't explain why he turned into a walker," Andrea pointed out, eyeing Katy as if she were insane.

"Only it does," Katy stated simply, forcing herself to ride out the can of worms she'd cracked open from being unable to keep her mouth shut. She rose to her feet and sighed loudly, preparing herself to face the firing squad. "I'm sorry you have to find out this way."

"Find out what?" Lori's voice was breathy, panic making it light and airy as her eyes bored into Katy's skull as if staring hard enough would enable her to read the soldier's mind and learn what she wanted to know.

"The infection…it isn't transmitted by bite. Everyone carries it." The entire group stood facing their guest, frozen as if waiting for a punch line that had already been delivered. It seemed to be Hershel who recovered first, most likely having the most knowledge on disease transmission.

"Where did the disease come from?" he asked gently, as if in a fog and still trying to process her words. "How could we all carry it?"

"I don't have all the answers," Katy returned with an apologetic shrug. "It was all kept under wraps by the CDC and the government so as not to cause a panic. The first cases were so widespread, no one knows for sure where it began or why. My favorite theory is a terrorist attack gone bad, but no one knows. We're all subjected to so much pollution and radiation these days, it could be some kind of genetic mutation we brought on ourselves."

"But we're all healthy," Lori protested, anger lacing her tone and fire in the gaze she set on Katy as if the entire apocalypse was her fault. "Why aren't we all stumbling around like one of those things?"

Katy shrugged, again signifying she didn't have all of the answers. "The infection reanimates the body. So long as you're alive, it remains passive because there's nothing to reanimate, but once you die, it activates and you turn. It doesn't kick in unless it has a reason to. Kinda like staph infection. Staph is a bacteria found on the skin of every human. It's harmless…unless you get a cut or other open wound that it gets in and causes an infection."

"Then what happens when you're bit? Why do you get sick?" T-Dog asked, dumbstruck by this new information.

"Think about it," Katy returned. "You just had the mouth of a decomposing human being create a wound in your skin in a less than sanitary living environment. Imagine how many different kinds of bacteria are now present at the site. The bite isn't necessarily your problem; the bacteria getting into the wound are. For most bacteria, the human body has a system of recognizing and combatting them, but we've never previously had a problem with corpses biting us. Our bodies have no immunity built up. The result is a fast-moving infection of which the main symptom is a fever that burns you out, you die, this new disease or mutation kicks in, and a couple hours later you're a cannibalistic shadow of your former self."

"So, we're all going to turn into walkers eventually?" Fear bled thick through Carol's voice, and Katy again felt that guilt stirring at having to be the one to reveal this news to the group who'd been nothing but kind to her. "No matter how we die?"

Katy just nodded, incapable of delivering that fatal 'Yes' aloud. "Doesn't matter if it's cancer, bleeding out, heart attack, or a bite. Unless you destroy the brain, everyone comes back."

"Is there any way to stop it?" Andrea asked next.

"Depends on how much you want to live and how good you are with impromptu surgery," Katy said cynically. "I heard of a guy who got bit on his leg. He immediately amputated it just below the knee and managed to keep the infection from spreading."

"How do you know all this?" Glenn studied Katy warily, as if she were going to turn into a walker and attack them all at any moment. "Were you an Army doctor?"

Katy actually laughed at that, causing everyone to flinch, the sound so unfitting in their present situation. "No, I'm an engineer. When we left Benning, I ran into a fellow officer, a doctor who managed to escape the medical ward when it was over-run. He told me."

"So where's your doctor friend now?" T-Dog wondered, the dregs of hope still clinging to his voice. "He in some lab workin' on a cure for this shit?"

"I wish he were." A solemn note crept into the former officer's voice. "He was killed by marauders while out on a supply run. I put him down myself when his body decided it wasn't through stumbling around. Figured it was the least I could do."

Everyone fell silent in the wake of being informed they were all ticking time-bombs. Before, they had operated under the hope that, so long as they avoided getting bitten, they could survive this apocalypse, but now that hope was dashed along with so many others. Lori still seemed capable of action, however, crossing over to Daryl with panic clear on her face. "Daryl, could you please get back out there and find Rick and Shane and figure out what on earth is going on? I'm not comfortable with them out there knowing what we know."

"You got it," Daryl agreed quickly, Glenn and Andrea immediately agreeing to accompany him.

Katy remained where she stood, ignoring the confused, afraid, even angry stares sent in her direction as the three survivors headed out the back door. It was better they knew. Katy knew, however, that the bombs weren't finished being dropped on the group when a cry of "Guys, get out here!" carried into the house from the porch, sending everyone out on the porch to investigate. Katy considered remaining where she was, but elected to step outside anyway.

Though the group immediately recognized the sight of walkers, it was too dark to judge how many there were. Needing to know what they were up against, Katy strode out to her Humvee, finding a pair of night vision binoculars in the glove box. Returning to the porch, she scanned the land, stopping on two figures moving quickly toward the house.

"What is it?" Daryl requested as he watched the soldier's face slowly drain of color. Wordlessly, she handed him the binoculars. As he found the same thing she'd seen, a long and colorful string of curses left his mouth. Rick and Carl were bolting full speed toward the house. Behind them, thankfully quite farther back and moving slowly, was the largest herd of walkers he had ever seen.

* * *

><p>"There's no way we can take out that many walkers," T-Dog said solemnly a few moments later, cutting through Katy's mental tirade.<p>

Her binoculars had been passed around the group, enabling everyone to see the threat that awaited them. Daryl stared out at the approaching mass with his crossbow at the ready while Beth sobbed against Patricia's chest; Maggie clung to Glenn like a vice, and Lori watched her husband and son with frantic eyes as they rushed across the pasture toward the house. But Katy paid attention to none of it, lost in her own mind as she fought with herself. She'd distanced herself from the other survivors, pacing back and forth on the second porch step as her thoughts raced. The herd was huge, maybe the largest she'd ever seen, though it was hard to tell in the darkness even with her binoculars and the green haze they threw over everything.

Looking at the survivors and mentally cataloguing which were most likely proficient with a gun, Katy knew the farm was doomed. She knew she should gather Luke, Abby, Brutus, and Brooklynn, pile them into the Humvee, and get the hell outta Dodge. These people weren't her problem. She didn't even know them, and she sure as hell didn't trust them. She should just leave these survivors to their fate. After all, it wasn't her fault they weren't prepared for an onslaught of this size. Her gaze shifted to her Humvee, its sand color standing out against the night in the light cast by the glowing farmhouse that stood out for the infected like a McDonald's sign had before the world had ended, declaring the presence of food. _But they could be ready._

_No._ Katy slammed the gates on that thought process immediately. That was only asking for trouble. It violated all the rules the former soldier had set for herself in the weeks since the world ended, and Katy couldn't risk that. She glanced back at the survivors still standing on the porch watching the herd's approach, and caught Beth's shaking shoulders as she sobbed and Lori's barely reined in panic. Catching movement in her peripheral, Katy saw the sillhouette of Luke as he pressed his face against the screen door, and suddenly all she could see was Luke's excitement at dinner as he'd babbled about the fun he and Carl had chasing lizards through a woodpile Jimmy had apparently showed them, saying more in thirty minutes than Katy had heard from him in thirty days. Could she condemn Carl—an innocent boy who'd helped Luke forget, if just for one afternoon, that they lived in an apocalypse where the next day was never guaranteed—to probable death at the hands of the herd shambling ever closer to the farm?

_I serve the people of the United States, and live the Army Values. _

The words rose to the forefront of Katy's mind unbidden, and the former soldier suddenly struggled to breathe. _No_, Katy told herself again. The United States didn't exist anymore; it had fallen to the dead. There were only people, and she had no obligation to them anymore. Why was it so hard to just grab the kids and leave? Why did she have to struggle so much with what was perfectly logical according to this new world's brutal rules? Katy tossed her head back and growled in frustration. She already knew the answer to that question. She couldn't shake the sense of responsibility boiling in her gut. How was it that the world had ended and she'd nearly been killed multiple times by the people she was supposed to serve, but she couldn't shake that feeling? That ingrained urge to protect, assist, and defend?

"Godammit!" Katy hissed aloud to herself, her feet already carrying her off the porch and across the yard as her mind reached the conclusion her heart and gut had already grasped. She was so going to regret this.

* * *

><p>"Patricia, kill the lights," Hershel ordered, Beth clinging to her father as the older woman went back into the house to obey. Daryl didn't figure it'd make much difference, but elected not to tell the aging patriarch his opinion on the matter.<p>

"Maybe they'll just pass by like the herd on the highway," Glenn suggested hopefully. "Should we just go inside?"

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about," Daryl returned with a shake of his head, wishing he'd never touched Katy's binoculars and gotten an even more accurate picture of the danger they were facing than he'd already possessed. He vaguely wondered where the former soldier had gone, but figured she was loading her kids up and bailing. It's what he'd do in her situation. "A herd that big'll rip the house down."

"T-Dog is right," Andrea inputted impatiently. "There are way too many walkers out there. We need to make for the cars before they get here."

"And what about Rick and Carl?" Lori demanded, dark eyes wide and panic in her voice. "I'm not just leaving them out there!"

"We don't have much choice," Andrea returned. "I'm not waiting around to be walker food. I'm gonna go get the guns." The blonde stalked off quickly, returning moments later with the black police duffel.

"They got the numbers," Daryl said as Andrea set the bag on the porch and opened it, beginning to rifle through the contents. "It's no use."

"You can go if you want," Hershel countered, grabbing a shotgun from the bag.

"You gonna take 'em all on by yourself?" Daryl asked incredulously as Maggie also grabbed a gun and handed another to Glenn.

"We have guns," Hershel replied, cocking his shotgun. "We have cars."

"We can take out as many as we can," Andrea added. "Use the cars to draw the rest away from the farm."

"You serious?" Daryl couldn't quite bring himself to believe what he was hearing. Hadn't the old man been listening? There were way too many walkers.

"This is my farm. I'll die here."

"S'as good a night as any," Daryl decided before shrugging, throwing a leg over the porch rail, and hopping to the ground. He was quickly joined by Andrea, T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie, Jimmy, and Hershel as most of the women headed into the house after the children. "Let's do this."

"Wait!" came an unfamiliar cry, and Katy was appearing before the group as if out of thin air, arms outstretched as she repeated her plea. "Wait, wait, wait, wait!"

"For what?" Daryl returned with a scoff. "Ya blind?! There's a herd comin'; we ain't got time to waste." He moved to side-step the woman, surprised when a tight grip on his arm spun him back around. Darkness had caused the woman to lose her sunglasses, and, though it was too dark for Daryl to discern the color, he could feel fire boring into his skull as Katy glared at him.

"You can't just run in blind!" she protested as the rest of the group came to a halt. "You need a plan…not a half-baked one, either. Otherwise that herd is _literally_ gonna chew you up and spit you out."

"It ain't yer problem," Daryl spat, wrenching his arm from the former soldier's grip. "We'll handle this. Unless you've got an armory you ain't told us about, you'd best get yer kids loaded up an' get outta here."

"No, listen to me!" Daryl was surprised when Katy pressed both hands against his chest and bodily pushed him back, both impressed and annoyed by her nerve. "Look, I don't have an armory," she said before Daryl could move again, squirming under everyone's scrutinizing gaze. "But I do have enough to help even the odds…maybe even tip them in our favor. But _only_ if we plan this out properly."

"Show us," Andrea said immediately, leading Katy to nod and trust the group to follow her over to the Humvee. Daryl couldn't hold back his low whistle at the sight that awaited them at the back of the sand-colored vehicle. The hatch open and tailgate down, weapons and various gadgets covered the tailgate and the opening of the cargo area. Daryl quickly counted fourteen rifles propped against the tailgate, one of which Katy picked up, seeming to run it through some kind of inspection before turning back to face the awestruck survivors at her back. Several handguns spread across the tailgate also awaited the group, and the redneck quickly decided there was some credibility to Katy's statement earlier that afternoon about military bases being the best place to be during an apocalypse.

"What's your plan then?" Hershel asked, surveying the collection of weapons as everyone else seemed to hold their breath. "There aren't enough of us to use all of these."

"First, I want anyone that can't or won't use a gun up in the attic with the children." Katy instructed.

"We already have the basement stocked," Hershel cut in. "They can hide there."

"No, it needs to be the attic," Katy said immediately as everyone looked at her questioningly. "You get shut in the basement and the walkers invade the house, they'll bust down that door if you get enough of them and they smell you. But the bastards can't climb ladders or fly yet. Shut yourselves up in the attic and they've gotta tear the house down to touch you." She then turned back to her plan, and the group listened attentively, quickly realizing the former military officer was in her element as a natural authority and confidence seeped into her voice.

"Keep all the lights off. I want as little attention on that house as possible. Move the supplies if you want; there should be time." She was directing these statements to Hershel, and Daryl wasn't sure why, as he didn't see the old man cowering amid antiques in a dusty attic while his farm was stormed by walkers, until Katy continued. "The vehicles are all parked right by the house, so if we somehow get overrun, tell them to bust out the vents and climb down to the cars and get outta here." The soldier then grabbed two handguns and a box of ammo from the pile on the tailgate, handing the gear to Hershel. "Make sure whichever ones are most comfortable with a gun get these. Just in case."

Daryl looked around. He, Glenn, T-Dog, Hershel, Jimmy, Maggie, Andrea, and Katy were all that stood to fend against a huge horde of walkers. The redneck looked at the guns lying around and then to their owner. Half of the group had never used a weapon before the apocalypse, but Katy at least seemed to know what she was doing, standing confidently with her rifle still in her hands. Daryl hoped it wasn't just false bravado for the sake of the group. "So what about us?" he inquired. "Like Hershel said, there ain't enough of us to use all these."

"_We_," Katy began, "are going to defend this farm and not let it be taken over by walkers." She turned and carefully laid her rifle down on a box before turning back to the men and woman before her. "We're gonna set up four stages of defense. Who are the two most confident shooters?" Daryl and Andrea stepped forward immediately, uncontested by anyone else. "Good. You two are gonna take the barn loft. You're phase two." She gestured toward the ancient wooden building before turning and picking out two scoped rifles and handing one to each of them, followed by another pair of bulkier, scope-less rifles. Daryl slung one over each shoulder as Katy took a small bag and threw in several boxes of ammo and a flashlight, drawing it closed and handing it to him with a nod.

"Glenn, T-Dog!" the soldier barked next, speaking quickly as the two men stepped forward, again handing each man two rifles and separate bags of ammo and taking the shotgun Maggie had handed Glenn. "You're phase three. I want one of you on the roof of that RV and the other on the first floor roof of the house." The men nodded. "Maggie, Hershel, and Jimmy? The three of you are the last phase. This farm is your home so I know you wanna defend it. After you get everyone settled inside, I want you patrolling the porch." She handed the shotgun she'd taken from Glenn to Jimmy before handing Berettas from the pile to the three. "The shotguns should be enough, but I want you to have these, too, just in case."

"We've got the guns," Glenn piped up when it seemed Katy had finished. "But what's the plan? Why are we in phases? And what's phase one?"

"_That's_ phase one," Katy said proudly, pointing at the roof of the Humvee. Everyone followed her arm up to where the roof of the vehicle had been cleared off, leaving the mounted turret in full view. "Fifty caliber Browning M2 heavy machine gun. Capable of firing over six hundred rounds per minute at nearly three thousand feet per second with an effective range of over two thousand yards."

"Damn," Glenn and T-Dog murmured simultaneously in awe.

"The plan is to bottleneck the walkers through the barn," Katy continued quickly, knowing they were short on time with the walkers creeping closer every second and using hand gestures rather than waste time trying to draw a diagram in the dirt. "I'll be pulled up near the fence. Like you said, they drastically outnumber us. I'll use the M2 to even the count. Daryl and Andrea will use the M24— that's the one with the scope— to pick off the walkers as they come to the barn. We'll close off the rear doors to slow the flow for at least a little while." She looked to Daryl and Andrea. "The two of you will then alternate with one of you focusing on the walkers coming toward the barn and the other using the M4 Carbine to take down the ones in the barn. With any luck, the fight will end there."

"But how are you going to make sure they head for the barn?" Andrea inquired. "With how much noise that machine gun's gonna make, it seems more likely they'll head for you."

"Let me worry about that," Katy countered simply, offering no further information. "As I was saying, if we're lucky, the walkers will be thinned down enough that we can end it in the barn. But," she said with a sigh, "this is the apocalypse, and no one is ever that lucky. If and when the walkers break through the barn doors, Glenn and T-Dog start in." The soldier turned her attention to the two men. "You've got two guns so you've got twice as long before you have to reload." She then turned to Hershel, Maggie, and Jimmy. "You three are the last line. I don't want you firing unless the walkers are heading straight for the house and everyone else is occupied. I don't want you doing anything foolishly brave, either. I know this is your home, but if walkers swarm that porch, drop back, get inside, and lock everything down. Don't worry about us out here. Like I've said, we want as little attention drawn to that house as possible."

Katy's attention returned to the small group as a whole as the three gave nods of confirmation. "When your station has been passed on, move to help the others around you. We don't stop until the walkers do. I'd like every one of you to have a handgun on you, preferably two. If you have to fire toward the house, they'll cause less damage than the rifles. If all else fails and you're about to become dinner, use 'em to put yourself outta your misery. There's already enough walkers out here without adding any of you to the count." Everyone blanched slightly at Katy's unwelcome brusqueness, hoping it wouldn't come to that. Katy exhaled deeply before continuing. "Try to make every shot count. If you go down, take as many of the bastards with you as you can. We don't have any time to waste, so good luck!" With that, she turned to shove the leftover weapons back in the Humvee after a few people had stepped forward and grabbed Berettas from the dwindled pile. Everyone else quickly moved to their posts.

"Daryl, Andrea, wait!" Katy called, the aforementioned pair turning back to the soldier before them. "I'll carry you two out in the Humvee. You're also gonna want these." She handed each of them what looked like a mini rifle scope.

"What're these for?" Andrea asked, studying the device in her hands.

"It's pitch black out here," Katy replied, grabbing her rifle and disconnecting an identical gadget from in front of the scope. "These give your scope night vision capabilities. Otherwise you're just gonna be shootin' shadows." The soldier proceeded to show the pair how to connect the devices to their rifles, which they swiftly did before loading in the Humvee and heading toward the barn.

* * *

><p>"You think this is gonna work?" Andrea mused as they approached the barn, the walkers' growls audible as they shuffled closer across the pasture.<p>

"It's better than the other plan," Daryl returned from his perch beside Andrea on the tailgate. He cocked his head toward their driver as they pulled to a stop. "She at least acts like she knows what she's doin'." With that, Andrea and Daryl hopped off the tailgate and shut the hatch as Katy put the Humvee in park. Climbing from the driver's seat, the brunette led the pair into the barn, belting a Beretta to each thigh as she went.

"We've got barely enough time to get set up," Katy said as she stood by the ladder leading to the loft, holding Daryl's guns and the crossbow he'd insisted on bringing as he climbed up first. Halfway up the ladder he stopped so Katy could hand him the weapons. Placing them carefully on the floor at the top of the ladder, the redneck ascended the rest of the way.

"The M24s have six rounds per magazine," Katy revealed as she repeated the climbing process with Andrea. "You've got three hundred rounds between the two. Try to alternate so you're not both reloading at the same time." The pair nodded and moved to the loft opening, Katy coming partway up the ladder to give her last instructions. "Delay firing as long as possible. Ideally, you should wait until I finish with the machine gun, though that probably won't be possible. We're already killin' the assholes twice. No need to be overzealous."

"Hey, Katy?" Andrea began, turning as she heard the brunette descending the ladder. The tap of combat boots against wood paused. "Thank you for helping us."

A look of surprise came over the soldier's face, and she finally offered a smile and a "Good luck," before fully descending the ladder. Andrea assumed Katy had tripped or run into something in the darkness as a sharp curse followed a few moments later and then a few moments after that the rear barn doors closed.

"I like her," the blonde said before settling down and peering through the rifle scope at the approaching horde. A noncommittal grunt escaped around the flashlight Daryl had in his mouth to provide light as he sorted their ammo and then the barn fell silent aside from the loading of bullets into magazines, the two shooters waiting not-so-patiently for the storm to come.

* * *

><p>Katy peeked out of the barn doors as her feet met solid ground once again. The walkers were closer than she'd hoped, and Katy knew she'd have to hurry if she wanted to be in position in time. <em>Time for the easy part,<em> she thought as she pulled her field knife from its sheath at her waist. _Ringing the dinner bell._

"Fuck!" the curse left Katy's mouth louder than she'd planned as her knife bit into the meat of her left forearm, a red river welling up quickly. The soldier then latched her free hand onto her arm above the cut, squeezing tightly so that the blood flowed quickly and covered her left hand. Releasing her hold on the arm, Katy then soaked her right hand in the oozing blood, letting the sticky red liquid spread fully across both hands. Like some twisted, macabre pre-school art project, Katy ran her hands over the doorjamb in front of her, painting the doors with the one scent she _knew _would draw the creatures in. Squeezing her arm tightly once again, she then walked back to the rear doors, allowing her blood to drip a trail down the center of the barn, and repeated her task.

As Katy exited the barn, she pulled a bandanna from her pocket as she pushed the doors closed with her shoulder. Wiping the blood from her hands, she then cinched the cloth tightly around the cut on her left forearm before dropping to one knee. Pulling two chain and lock sets from the bag she'd slung on her back, the former soldier quickly chained the doors shut before hightailing it back to the Humvee, the audible moaning of the walkers resounding in her ears. It seemed to have increased in volume, so Katy knew they must have picked up on her welcome message.

Climbing in the driver's seat of her still running vehicle, the soldier immediately shifted the mechanical beast into drive, moving into position with full view of the horde of infected headed toward the farm. Turning the vehicle off, Katy climbed into the cargo area, grabbing several boxes of machine gun rounds and pulling the same night vision capable scope accessory that she'd offered Daryl and Andrea from the pile of gadgets and ammo strewn around the Humvee. She then opened the top hatch, standing and immediately preparing the mounted machine gun for use. With regulations against women in combat, it wasn't a weapon she'd used often, but Katy had made it her business to understand nearly every weapon the military used, and so she was soon ready to fire. Peeking through the scope she'd installed, Katy quickly lined up her first stumbling line of reanimated victims, her fingers hovering over the trigger button. _So it begins_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Revised/Updated 10/3/2013**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

As the steady rhythm of machine gun fire split the night air, Daryl found the view in his scope drifting from the walkers stumbling toward the barn to the horde falling under the rain of destructive fire spewing from the nearby Humvee. "Jesus Christ," he mumbled, his cheek pressed against the rifle stock, as he watched a single shot take down four walkers, straight and clean through the head, and knock several others near the flight path off their feet. "I want one o' those." As he watched line after line of walkers fall, a few getting back up but most staying down, Daryl begrudgingly decided that, so long as she had plenty of ammunition, Katy might have been right about the machine gun evening the odds.

The redneck then returned his attention to the walkers shuffling into his and Andrea's territory, fixing his scope on a particularly ugly son of a bitch before a flash of movement that was too fast to be a walker caught his attention as it darted through his scope. Pulling back from the rifle in his hands, Daryl caught Rick and Carl running full speed toward the barn, ducking and dodging the snarling undead reaching toward them with hands that promised a slow, agonizing death.

Returning to the rifle and following the father and son in his scope, the hunter swiftly put a bullet through the eye of a walker that got a little too close to the kid for Daryl's comfort levels. The former deputy's head jerked up in surprise, searching for the source of the welcome assistance, and Daryl waved a hand, causing Rick to move even faster as he practically dragged the slower Carl through the field, altering their course to head for the barn.

Daryl kept up his protective vigil, stopping the shuffling legions of walkers from stumbling too close to Rick and his son. Impressed with the rifle tucked against his shoulder as it seemed to read his mind, firing smoothly and sending bullets directly through the brains of the undead who moronically lined themselves in his crosshairs, the redneck soon found the rifle clip empty. Luckily, there were no more walkers close enough to the sprinting pair to be of concern, so Daryl turned to reload the rifle to which he was quickly taking a shine. The bossy soldier who'd thrown the weapon at him just might not be having the gun returned if they all managed to survive the night. Daryl had the clip half-full when he heard the thud of the front doors of the barn closing, quick shuffling as Rick found something with which to block the door, and then heavy breathing.

"Getcher asses up here!" Daryl commanded gruffly, leaning over the side of the loft to find the panting father/son pair looking up at him in surprise. "Hurry up!" he continued as the thuds of the first walkers hitting the doors mingled with the crack of a high-powered rifle as Andrea took her first shot. "Ya ain't got all night! That door ain't gonna last more'n a few minutes against this herd!"

Not needing any further motivation, Rick and Carl rapidly scaled the ladder to the loft, Daryl reaching down to haul Carl over the edge as the boy approached the top. "What's goin' on?" Rick requested as he clamored over the brink next. "Why are you in here?"

"Bakin' bread, obviously," Daryl deadpanned as he snapped the newly full clip into his rifle. "What's it look like we're doin'?!"

"This herd is all over the place," Andrea observed as she pulled back once her clip came up empty, Daryl taking her place to fire on the walkers approaching the barn. "Katy was right, though. They're all comin' for the barn."

"Katy?" Rick replied dumbly amid the loud pounding of walkers against the barn doors. "Is that the machine gun I'm hearin'? And where you got these guns?"

"One 'n' the same," Daryl confirmed between shots, satisfaction burning in his gut as he watched the walker in his sights fall before moving to find his next target. _Dixons don't miss_. "Thought she was gonna bail, but she stuck around. Woman's got ahelluvan arsenal for jus' one person. Makes herself damn useful in a bind."

"You should get Carl back to the house," Andrea advised as she snapped her rifle's cartridge back into place just in time for Daryl to pull back to reload once more. "No walkers have gotten through yet, but Lori's worried sick. They're all supposed to be barricaded up in the attic."

"The attic? What happened to the basement?"

"Katy," the two shooters replied in unison before Andrea returned to taking out the shuffling undead.

His mind churning as it tried to process how quickly everything had changed in the past few minutes, Rick nodded and led Carl to the loft opening on the side of the barn. Seeing that the coast was clear, he knelt before his son. "Carl, get back to the house with the others. I'm gonna stay here and help any way I can."

"But—I wanna stay here and help you!" Carl protested, shaking his head.

"You will be helping me by looking out for your mother and the rest of the group," Rick assured his son. "Keeping them safe is an important job. Can you do it?" He leaned forward to place a kiss on his son's forehead as the boy nodded, pacified with the assurance he'd still be helping from safely inside the house. "I love you. Now go."

With that, Carl crept through the opening and across the roof before jumping down into a pile of hay and sprinting toward the shadow of Hershel on the porch. Rick followed his son's path, not moving from the loft opening until certain his child was safely inside as Hershel ushered the boy through the front door. "What can I do?" the former deputy asked as Daryl and Andrea again switched positions for Daryl to reload.

"Whatever Samuels did, it's got this herd stirred up good," Daryl said, handing Rick one of the back-up rifles Katy had given the pair as the barn doors groaned in protest of the weight thrown against them. "The doors're gonna bust any minute. When they do, blast every sumbitch that comes in. Ammo's over there." He gestured to the carefully-sorted pile he'd made.

"What if we let 'em through the back?" Rick asked, not sure he wanted the answer as Daryl returned to lying flat on his stomach and firing on the walkers, his shots echoing in between the short bursts of machine gun fire in a complimentary rhythm.

"Glenn and T-Dog are backing us up," Andrea explained as she pulled back. "And Maggie, Hershel, and Jimmy are guarding the house."

"That Katy's plan, too?"

"Yup," Daryl said from his post.

Andrea nodded and shrugged. "Been a pretty solid plan so far." There was a crack of wood and suddenly the growling and groaning was much closer. "Sounds like you're on."

Rick nodded and checked the safety on the rifle in his hands, the weapon heavier than he was accustomed to, before he stepped up to the edge of the barn loft, looking down at the undead battalion shuffling through the barn. Removing one hand from the M4 in his grip, Rick brought his thumb and middle finger up to his mouth, letting a shrill whistle escape between his teeth. As he'd expected, the walkers shifted their attention in search of the new sound, gathering underneath where he stood with hungry, outstretched arms. As they all looked up at him with glazed over, dead eyes, Rick found it easy to line up their foreheads in his sights, letting the spattering of bullets send the numerous corpses crashing to the barn floor as he squeezed the trigger.

* * *

><p>The vibrations of the heavy weapon she controlled jarring her arms and shoulders, Katy continued violently firing upon the walkers before her, relentless and unmerciful as she mowed them down. She continued her brutal assault until she was out of ammunition, knowing that attempting to retrieve more would result in the walkers being in much closer proximity than the soldier was at all comfortable with. Instead, she drove down into the bowels of her Humvee, pulling the hatch closed behind her as she crouched on the bed she'd been sleeping in—was it really only a matter of hours before? Reaching and grasping amid the boxes and bags of supplies, Katy loaded several boxes of ammo in a bag and slung it on her back before sliding two rifle straps over her shoulder. Grabbing another box of rounds, she quickly filled two extra magazines for the matching Berettas strapped to her thighs, slipping the spare clips into her thigh holsters.<p>

As prepared as she could be for whatever she was about to face, Katy pulled one of her pistols from its holster as she crouched at the back hatch, her free hand reaching for the lever that would pop the door open and expose her to the threat waiting outside. Taking a deep, steadying breath as she clicked the safety off on her pistol and moved her finger to the trigger, the soldier turned the lever in her grip, springing from the vehicle the moment she caught sight of the grass. Ridding the world of a few walkers who had stumbled too close for her to be at all comfortable, the brunette slammed the back door she'd just exited shut before sprinting for the trees near the farmhouse.

Approaching the trees at a full sprint, Katy's keen eyes quickly picked out a peach tree with the lowest branch just above her reach, perfect for keeping undesirables from following her up. Jumping the minute she was under the tree, the former soldier wrapped her arms around the branch, shoulders and biceps protesting as they pulled her full weight up until she could swing her leg over the branch. Growling from nearby informing her that her tireless pursuers weren't far, Katy scrambled up into the branches to perch amid overripe peaches a good fifteen feet in the air. Cradling her Remington MSR as gently as a child once she'd hung her M16 from a nearby branch, Katy steadied her breathing before quickly clicking the safety off and raising the rifle to her shoulder, aiming the weapon through a gap in the branches that gave her a full view of the incoming legions of infected.

Zeroing in on a large walker in a business suit with half of one arm missing, Katy squeezed the trigger and watched as a .308 Winchester cartridge put the walker on the ground to never rise again as the bullet busted through his eye socket and shattered the back of his skull. With a triumphant grin and adrenaline coursing through her veins, Katy prepared the precision rifle for its next shot, remembering why she'd been so disappointed when she'd been told the Army didn't allow female snipers.

* * *

><p>Daryl hesitated on his next shot with the rifle in his hands as the rapid bursts of machine gun fire suddenly stopped. He'd found himself matching the rhythm the machine gun made as he took out the approaching walkers, firing in between bursts to make a strangely satisfying symphony of destructive firepower. The night seemed eerily silent without the rat-a-tat of the machine gun, and Daryl forced himself to focus as he lined up the rifle scope with a walker's forehead. Squeezing the trigger and watching the walker fall, he sat up to see Andrea loading the last of the M24 ammo into her rifle and Rick filling another magazine for one of the M4s.<p>

The constant groaning of the walkers pressing against the back barn doors ringing in his ears, Daryl abandoned the rifle and scooped up the second M4, rising to stand beside Rick. "Andrea's about to use the last of the ammo for the other guns," he told the former officer. "An' there're still plenty of geeks out there."

"We'll just have to focus on taking out as many as we can," Rick replied, snapping the newly-full magazine into the gun in his hands. "At least if they break through Glenn and T-Dog should be ready to go." Daryl nodded, trying to ignore the thudding and creaking coming from the back doors as he fired into the congregation below.

* * *

><p>Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Glenn waited atop the farmhouse roof, struggling to regulate his breathing and keep himself calm as he listened to the rapid gunfire echoing from the barn. It had been easier to remain composed when everything had been drowned out by the roaring machine gun. Now that it had fallen silent, the moaning of the numerous hungry walkers attempting to make their way across the property had Glenn's hands shaking as they gripped the rifle Katy had given him. He'd only ever seen powerful weapons such as the one he currently held in Call of Duty and the war movies he used to watch. The gun felt clumsy in his hands, heavy and stolid, and Glenn was nearly certain he'd cause more harm to himself with this weapon than he would to the approaching herd.<p>

Not for the first time since the world had ended in an eruption of fire and death, Glenn wished he was back in his dorm room at the University of Georgia, complaining about his English Literature professor and his job at the nearby pizza place while he and his roommate worked a co-op on one of their many video games. Glenn shook his head at the memory of that same roommate screaming on the floor of the dorm lobby as one of the undead tore into his stomach. It sickened Glenn to remember that he may not have managed to escape that day if not for the distraction his roommate's screams had provided by calling the attention of the shambling undead to the feast and away from the Asian sneaking out of the building.

His nerves shot from the apprehension of simply waiting for his turn to defend against the horde besieging the farm, Glenn forced himself to take deep, calming breaths, reminding himself that the past didn't matter anymore. What mattered now was surviving. Staying alive as long as possible and fighting to the last breath when your turn finally came, that was all the world had left for him anymore. A sharp crack suddenly called Glenn's attention away from the dark corners of his mind and to the barn. They were coming through! The Asian readied his first gun without hesitation, lining the first walker up in his sights as he inhaled deeply in attempt to slow his racing heart.

* * *

><p>As the barn doors burst open with the cracking sound of splitting wood, Katy resolutely kept her attention on the walkers still out in the field, trusting Glenn and T-Dog to defend their assigned posts as she heard gunfire coming from their direction. Smoothly moving her scope from walker to walker, the soldier assassinated the infected with lethal precision until a mental countdown revealed that she had just fired the last available round and her magazine was empty. Pulling the rifle away from her shoulder and laying it across her lap after discharging the magazine, Katy noticed that several walkers had bypassed the barn and broken through the fence near her Humvee, most likely drawn in her direction by the echoing feedback of her rifle.<p>

_No matter,_ she thought as she rummaged through her ammo bag. _They can stand under this tree all night if they'd like, they aren't gonna climb up here after me. I'll take care of them when I'm ready._ The brunette refilled the magazine in her hands and clipped it back into her rifle, raising it to her shoulder and resuming firing upon the several walkers that still remained in the field. There weren't too many, she realized, glad to see that her plan was thus far working and a huge dent had been made in the herd. She then focused on the moment, exhaling slowly as she set her crosshairs on a walker that seemed to have formerly been a doctor of some sort, clothed as it was in the remains of scrubs and a lab coat. With a resounding crack, the prior professional was just another body in the field.

* * *

><p>"That's the last," Andrea said as she sent a bullet careening through the skull of an unfortunate walker in a wedding dress, the former woman falling to the ground in a mess of chiffon and lace.<p>

Daryl looked out across the field that had once been teeming with walkers to find it completely still and legitimately lifeless, looking like an old, abandoned battleground with the decaying bodies lying everywhere. The barn was also still, the floor covered in corpses. Their post had officially been passed. He found himself wondering how long they had been up in the loft, the sense of time having disbanded as his focus fell on simply _aim, shoot, reload_. Had it been hours? Minutes? The echo of rifle fire ordered his attention back to the present.

"Let's go make sure everything is under control," Rick suggested, bending down to gather the remaining ammo. Daryl nodded his agreement, making sure the magazine for the M4 he was using was full before slinging it over his shoulder and descending the ladder, Rick following.

"What about the other rifles?"

"Leave 'em," Daryl said, looking up at the blonde still in the loft, who was holding a sniper rifle in each hand, indecision clear on her face. "Outta ammo. Useless unless yer gonna use 'em as clubs. We can come back for 'em later."

Andrea nodded and finally descended the ladder, pulling her father's Smith and Wesson from the holster on her hip and the Beretta she'd borrowed from Katy's stockpile from the waistband of her jeans. Stepping carefully around the numerous corpses littering the ground, she, Daryl, & Rick exited the barn and immediately set to work on the walkers around them, rifle fire coming from near the house informing them that the adventure wasn't quite over yet.

* * *

><p>Seeing that the pasture was now devoid of the walking dead, Katy lowered her rifle with a sigh of relief, folding in the stock and hanging it up with her M16 as she noticed how loud the walkers below her were. "I guess it's you guys' turn," she said to the walkers below, not expecting an answer as she pulled her twin Berettas from their holsters and prepared them to fire. She commenced on attacking the hostile crowd beneath her tree, starting from the back and working her way forward. The last thing she needed was creating a mountain of corpses the walkers could climb to join her in the tree. The moans grew steadily softer in volume as body after body slumped to the ground. Katy had the last walker lined up in the iron sights of her Beretta until a click as she squeezed the trigger pulled her up short.<p>

"Are you fuckin' _kidding_ me?!" She cried, looking at the guns in disbelief. With a growl she released both magazines from her guns, letting them land in her lap as she pulled the extra clips she'd filled from her holsters and jammed them angrily into place. Cocking one gun, she immediately put the last offending walker in its place before leaning back against the tree trunk with a scoff and shake of her head. "I can't _believe _that just happened."

Choosing to simply be glad she wasn't on the ground when that unfortunate stroke of luck had hit, Katy focused on digging through her bag for ammo to refill the two empty clips she now held. As she slid the cool bullets from her fingers and into the magazine, however, her mind refused to bury the fact that she'd lost count of her rounds, pulling her back to when she'd first learned such a crucial lesson.

_She'd been seventeen, all stubbornness and determination as she'd worked her way through Cadet Basic Training, commonly known among the West Point students as Beast Barracks, in the summer before her plebe year. Southeastern New York had experienced a particularly sweltering summer that year, and the July heat made it hard to focus on anything other than the hunger in her gut and the burning in her throat from the mix of dust and dehydration. _

_It was a compliment to her father's years of instructing her in using a gun that Katy managed to hit the target at all. She was doing much better than her peers, many of whom had never touched a gun before entering Beast, but she still knew the minute she pulled the trigger with a member of the cadre behind her and her gun delivered that tell-tale click that said the magazine and chamber were both empty that she was in trouble. Almost before she'd even processed what had happened, Katy felt a heavy hand on her shoulder spinning her around. Of course, it'd be him._

_The upperclassman standing before Katy was six-and-a-half feet and two-hundred-and-thirty pounds of pure, intimidating bulk who had seemed to set his summer goal at making every cadet, male and female, under his command cry. Katy knew he was multiple-generation military, much like she herself, with big shoes to fill and the attitude to match, and so had done her best to avoid confrontation with the elder cadet. It seemed her past few weeks of luck and careful ghosting had finally run out, however, as the upperclassman directed a scalding glare down at her much smaller frame._

"_New Cadet Samuels, surrender your sidearm!" he barked, and Katy handed over the Beretta in her grip immediately as she snapped to attention, staring straight at the name bar declaring JACKSON in large, white letters on the elder cadet's chest. "Samuels, how many rounds does this weapon hold?" _

"_Fifteen, sir," she said, refusing to avert her stare when her enforcer moved, ducking his face inches from her own and asking the question again in a brutal roar that made her eardrums ache._

"_And did I just hear you dry fire your weapon, New Cadet?" Cadet Jackson asked once Katy had repeated her answer in a yell. He circled her like a predator does its prey, trying to intimidate her into screwing up, but Katy refused to admit it was working as she kept her stare resolutely ahead. _

"_Yes, sir," she returned, maintaining her voice's steady cadence despite the personal reprimand burning in her gut._

"_And does that mean you lost count of your rounds, New Cadet?" Jackson's voice was a dangerous field of ice, and Katy closed her eyes for a moment before answering an affirmative._

"_And do we lose count of our rounds in this company?"_

"_Sir, no sir!" Katy returned._

"_Then why _the hell_ did you lose count and dry fire your weapon?!" The elder cadet's voice rose into a bellow as he brought his face inches from Katy's, his breath hot on her cheeks. "A mistake like that in a warzone could cost your life! Or the life of one of the men in your command!"_

"_It won't happen again, sir!" Katy insisted, fighting the urge to push this intimidating bulk of a man away and forcing her voice to remain calm._

"_You're damn right it won't," Jackson agreed, tossing a look and a nod back over his shoulder so that another member of the cadre stepped over. "Because you and Cadet Larkin here are going to do push-ups until I feel as though you remember exactly how many rounds your sidearm holds." _

_Jackson's grip, heavy on her shoulder, had Katy pressed into the dirt as Cadet Larkin crouched in front of her and matched her push-up position. Her already-sore and starving body protesting as her weight rested in her arms and gravel bit into the meat of her hands, Katy closed her eyes and focused on the task ahead as she felt Jackson rest his boot in the square of her back and bark the order for her to begin._

Shaking the memory away to find she'd finished filling the two clips, Katy knew her time hiding in the peach tree was over. After slipping the newly-replenished clips into the holsters previously occupied by their predecessors, the brunette slung her bag of ammo over her shoulders and secured her firearms before beginning her descent from the tree. Reaching the same branch she'd used to enter the tree, Katy checked and double-checked that the coast was clear before swinging herself down, her feet dangling a few inches above the ground before she let herself fall. Landing silent and stealthy beneath the branches that had provided her refuge, the former soldier pulled her M16 from her shoulder, firing on any nearby walkers as she progressed steadily toward the house.

Though she'd been shooting the M16 for nearly two decades, it had taken some time after the world ended before Katy found herself comfortable with employing the high-powered rifle for use against the hordes of infected that now plagued the world. The Army taught its soldiers to aim for the center of mass to bring an enemy down, and it was true that a few rounds to the chest from an M16 would do the trick of putting a man down permanently. These rules, however, didn't apply to the undead, which simply got up and continued on after a bullet to the chest should've silenced them forever. Adjusting the automatic rifle for headshots was difficult after being trained for so long for an entirely different breed of warfare, but the part of Katy that loved the loud crack of gunfire would admit there was something extremely satisfying in the way the M16's forty-five-millimeter round tore through a walker's skull.

As she guided the weapon in her arms in the annihilation of the line of undead before her, the sound of groaning behind her that was way too close for comfort caused Katy to spin around quickly as a walker pounced on her, knocking her M16 out of her hands as she fell to the ground. Pressing against the walker's chest as she struggled to keep it off of her, Katy reached for one of the knives in her belt, skirting around the walker's arms that kept grabbing at her. As the creature fought to take a bite out of her neck, the soldier finally managed to get her hand around the hilt of her knife, immediately pulling her legs up and locking them around the geek's waist. Throwing all her weight at the walker, she managed to roll it over and use her forearm to pin its head to the ground at the neck, her other arm drawing the knife from its sheath and driving the blade into the walker's forehead, immediately stilling it beneath her as blood spattered across her face.

Not wasting any time as she still heard hungry moans and groans around her, Katy released the knife and grabbed her Berettas from their holsters, opening fire on the walkers directly in front of her before rolling to one side to fire on the corpses staggering up from behind. When she was no longer surrounded by hordes of undead, the soldier slammed her Beretta in her holsters and ripped her knife from the skull of the cadaver beside her, wiping the blade on the remnants of the walker's clothing before shoving it back in its sheath and scooping up her abandoned rifle.

* * *

><p>Calmer now as he watched the walkers falling in droves all around him, Glenn lowered his rifle and exchanged it for the two Berettas he had accepted from Katy. It seemed all of the remaining walkers had grouped around the house, Maggie, Jimmy, and Hershel having already taken refuge inside. The Korean knew he had only fifteen rounds per clip and no extra ammo; he had to make these shots count. He quickly brought down three walkers, none of the others even moving from their goal. As accurately as possible considering his minimal experience with guns, Glenn continued firing on the invaders, eager to protect the closest thing to a family he had left in this world.<p>

* * *

><p>Surprised at the fact that the group had managed to avoid being over-run thus far, Rick moved toward the dark farmhouse looming over the grisly battlefield with Daryl and Andrea just behind him. Rifles in hand as they watched the last of the walker herd beating against the doors and windows, moaning their knowledge of the possible meal that waited inside, the three survivors ducked behind the RV parked near the house. The former officer estimated the walkers' numbers at sixty total, so focused on achieving entrance to the house they didn't pay attention to the three humans less than thirty feet away. <em>Four,<em> Rick's brain corrected him as he caught sight of what could only be Katy creeping along through the bodies littering the ground, her form hunched over as she made herself as small as possible and sped toward him, Daryl, and Andrea.

"Rick?" Katy hissed as she came within earshot of the trio. "Is that you? Where's Carl?"

"I sent him back to the house before the walkers got through," Rick returned, his voice barely over a whisper as Katy drew up alongside him, remaining at a crouch as the other three pressed their backs against the RV, their eyes on a swivel for any walkers that caught on to the fact that a meal could possibly reside elsewhere. Glenn and T-Dog's posts had fallen silent, leaving the yard echoingly quiet compared to the gunfire that had danced across it moments before, and the quartet didn't want to bring any extra attention to themselves. Katy nodded and Rick thought he saw relief on the woman's face, though he couldn't be sure in the darkness.

"Glenn! Glenn!" Katy called, her voice a harsh whisper as she looked skyward, and Rick wondered who the woman thought she was talking to until he followed her gaze upward to see a familiar face peeking over the side of the RV, unable to stop the smile crossing his own face at the clear relief shining on Glenn's as the Asian looked down and caught sight of them all unharmed beneath his perch. "Are you clear to get down here?"

"I think so," Glenn returned after disappearing for a moment to scan his surroundings. After that confirmation, he disappeared once again only to reappear skirting around the back of the RV to come hunker beside the rest of the group.

"How is everyone doin' on ammo?" the soldier asked once everyone had assembled, unslinging the weapons and a smaller bag from her shoulders.

"We're low," Rick replied. "We have the rounds, just haven't gotten a chance to reload. And Andrea's outta rounds for her pistols."

"We're downwind and the walkers are pretty set on gettin' in that house. You should have time to reload before they notice us." Katy took a knee and began rifling through the bag she'd pulled from her back, pulling out several boxes of ammo and handing one each to Andrea and Glenn, keeping the last for herself.

Glenn and Andrea nodded their thanks and immediately removed the clips from the Berettas in their hands, beginning to fill the magazines with bullets while Rick and Daryl did the same for the rifles they were holding. Even as she pulled her own Berettas from their holsters and swapped the magazines for fully-loaded ones before replenishing the clips she'd partially depleted, Katy kept a wary eye on their surroundings, making sure no walkers were alerted to the going-ons around them or would sneak up on her companions as they loaded their weapons.

"These are the last of the walkers, so far as I can tell," Katy began as the five prepared their weapons, locking gazes with Rick. "Once y'all are ready, Andrea, Glenn, and I will take one side of the house and you and Daryl can take the other. Circle 'round, get rid of all the walkers, and meet back at the front. Sound good?" The clicks of magazines being snapped into guns and cartridges being loaded into chambers sounded an affirmative. With nods, the quintet split up, each group rounding a different side of the RV and opening fire on the last batch of walkers that dared attempt to breach the threshold of the structure housing people they cared about.

* * *

><p>As silence fell over the farm once again, the last walker's hungry moan trailing off with a whine, T-Dog took a moment to simply let his body go limp against the shingles of the Greene farmhouse's roof, a victorious high sending his body into rapture as a single thought cycled through his mind. <em>We did it! Thank Jesus, we did it!<em> After a moment of simply basking in the joy found in knowing he was safe for the time being, T-Dog dutifully rose from his post, gathering his weapons and what little ammo remained before climbing back inside the house through the open window behind him. He thought this was Maggie's room, but he wasn't sure. It didn't really matter as he crossed the room and threw its door open, startling Jimmy as he walked by.

"We did it!" T-Dog exclaimed happily, scooping the teen up in a bear hug. "I dunno how, but we did it!" He finally set the unamused seventeen-year-old down as he remembered everyone hiding away in the attic, hurrying down the hallway to stand under a pull-string. Giving the string a solid tug, a rickety set of steps fell from the ceiling to land at T-Dog's feet, and the man was suddenly faced with a revolver and pair of pale blue eyes.

"Easy, Carl," T-Dog began, holding his hands up so the protective boy could see he wasn't a walker. "It's okay! We did it! The farm's safe; you can come down!"

The boy's face lit up in excitement and T-Dog was soon surrounded by the majority of the group as most of them came down from the attic as Hershel and Maggie came over from where they'd been keeping an eye on the bottom floor, making sure no walkers breached the doors or windows. Happy hugs and warm smiles were passed around as T-Dog's victory high spread to the rest of the group, and then they were surging for the stairs as one as they heard their valiant defenders returning inside.

As the group reconvened in the living room, the fighters depositing their rifles and pistols just outside the front door, ecstatic hugs and handshakes were shared as the group celebrated another night of survival. At the moment, none of them cared that they had hundreds of bodies to clear out and burn. What they cared about was that the bodies were not those of members of their group. While it had first seemed the farm had seen its last night of safety, they had managed to prevent the farm being lost and preserve the place that was home for many of their group.

"Wait, where's Shane?" Lori inquired at a lull in the celebration as her eyes swept the crowd to make sure all were accounted for. All eyes turned expectantly to Rick.

"He didn't make it," the former officer revealed, the air of joy quickly leaving the room.

"Walkers?" Lori asked hesitantly.

Rick prepared to answer before a shout from the two blonde children still standing on the stairs and a sudden rushing of feet brought everyone's attention back to the front door where Katy lingered, hanging back from the jubilance before her. Quickly raising her arms to slow the children running full speed toward her, the soldier braced herself as Abby collided with her leg, Luke slamming into her waist with enough force for the woman to stagger a few steps back. The rest of the survivors quickly got the impression of someone who'd just travelled through Hell and back as they took in Katy's heavily armored form that had immediately become visible upon moving from the darkness outside to the lighted interior of the house. Her eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed as she squinted against the glaring lights Patricia had just turned back on, blood spatters streaked Katy's face and stained much of her formerly grey shirt black, giving her an overall appearance of menace. Hershel's rule of no weapons in the house was glaringly ignored by the matching side-arms on Katy's thighs and knife sheath on her belt that she hadn't thought to leave outside with her rifles, they were such familiar companions. The landlord, however, found that he really didn't mind, knowing he owed the woman his farm and probably his life.

"What happened?" Maggie finally asked, knowing the question was on everyone's lips as Katy was the only defender covered in blood, the others sweaty and looking exhausted but otherwise no worse for wear. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I had one sneak up behind me," Katy explained apologetically as she read the concern in everyone's faces. "He knocked my gun away and we had to get a little personal, but I'm fine."

"Ya bit?" Daryl asked immediately, the tension in the room jumping a few notches at his words.

"No," Katy's answer was simple and blunt as she seemed to remember she was more armed than she should be in order to be present in the Greene family living room, her hands nudging Luke and Abby away from where they still clung to her waist so she could unstrap her thigh holsters. "I promise if being infected became a problem I'd put myself outta my misery and save y'all the trouble." Sliding her backpack from her shoulders and placing the two Berettas inside after unloading the magazines and clearing the chambers, Katy then stood before them fully disarmed save for the knife attached to the belt of her pants. "Would y'all care if I took a moment to clean up?"

"Not at all," Hershel said immediately, gesturing to the stairs. "You've more than earned a little extra hot water."

With a grateful nod, Katy moved to the duffel she'd brought in…had it really only been a few hours ago? It felt as though it had been much longer, though she supposed that could be the screaming of her sore muscles talking. Pulling out a bundle of clothes, she flashed a smile at the group as they made a path for her to quickly dart up the stairs. As their guest disappeared to the second floor, the survivors all looked at each other as though unsure of what to do next.

"So," Lori finally said, breaking the silence as she focused on the eight defenders left in the room. "What happened out there?"

* * *

><p>A long, drawn out hiss and muttered curse escaped Katy's lips as she peeled the bandanna bandage from her forearm, the blood having glued the fabric to her skin and breaking parts of the cut open again. Flexing her arm as tiny beads of blood welled up the soldier quickly decided the cut wasn't deep enough to warrant any further medical attention than being disinfected. Satisfied with her decision, the brunette settled for running a sinkful of hot water as she peeled her now-filthy clothes from her skin. Finding a washcloth underneath the sink, Katy vigorously scrubbed at the blood and grime coating her face and arms. <em>I forgot how bad the recoil on those rifles can be,<em> Katy thought, an ache settling in her muscles as the adrenaline seeped from her veins. She then pushed all thoughts of the walkers and the firefight that had just taken place from her mind, humming softly as she lost herself in the feeling of fresh clothes settling over clean skin.

* * *

><p>The conversation between the survivors settled in the living room faded out as they heard soft footsteps descending the stairs, turning expectantly to the doorway as their guest appeared. Looking much less battle-hardened in bare feet, a baggy pair of black sweatpants, and an army green T-shirt, Katy entered the living room with her blood spattered boots in one hand and bundle of dirty clothes in the other, her belt slung over one shoulder. Not noticing the attention the group was paying her as she buried her clothes in the duffel bag and set her boots just outside the front door, Katy turned and froze as she realized how many sets of eyes were fixed on her actions. Rick understood it was the first time he had seen the soldier with her hair in anything besides a clean and tight military bun, the loose braid draped over one shoulder with escaped strands framing her face taking away any previous severity held, emphasizing the youth still clinging to the woman's features. Rick quickly grasped it was stretching the limits of logic to claim the woman had reached any farther than her thirtieth birthday.<p>

"What is it?" Katy asked, a slight panic in her motions as she quickly searched the room for the three children under her protection, panic fading into mild confusion at finding them perfectly content and unharmed, Abby watching Luke and Carl playing cards in the floor while Patricia bounced a sleepy Brooklynn on her knee. "Is something wrong?"

"No, everything is fine," Rick replied assuredly as he crossed over to the soldier. "I think we all just want to say thank you for your help tonight."

"It was nothing, really," Katy countered with a shrug as she shook the hand Rick had extended in thanks.

"Yes, it was," Rick returned immediately, causing Katy to squirm underneath that sharp blue gaze. "Tonight wasn't your fight. You had every right to load up and leave, but you didn't. Without the way you got everyone organized and your extra guns, we would've been overrun. You gave us one more night of safety. That's definitely something."

"I figured it was the least I could do," Katy said sheepishly, deciding the man before her didn't need to know exactly how close she'd come to abandoning the people before her. "I would've felt guilty turnin' tail an' runnin' knowin' I had the firepower to help."

"Then we're thankful for the fact that there is still at least one decent person in this world," Lori cut in as Katy looked increasingly more uncomfortable with everyone's attention on her. "C'mon, sit down and rest a minute." The pale brunette patted the couch next to where she herself sat.

Katy hesitated, guilt writhing in her gut as the majority of the group looked to her with appreciative smiles. She didn't deserve their gratitude; it wouldn't have taken much for the night to swing toward an entirely different outcome in which Katy would be long gone and most, if not all, of the group assembled before her would be dead. Reminding herself that these people didn't need to know that, she finally sighed deeply and moved to sit between Lori and Carol, both women reaching out to place a welcoming hand on the shoulder nearest them as they smiled warmly. Tracking her guardian's progress across the living room, Abby was quick to abandon Luke & Carl's card game, climbing into Katy's lap with a sleepy yawn. The former soldier smiled and ruffled the child's bouncing curls before casting her eyes about and cataloguing each of the defenders she'd fought alongside.

"So, everyone made it safely?" Katy asked as if to confirm what her eyes were processing as she took in the tired but undamaged faces of the survivors around her. She then felt the urge to put her foot in her mouth, remembering Rick saying that Shane hadn't made it back, but the rest of the group either didn't notice her flub or chose to ignore it, for which the former soldier was grateful.

"Thanks to you," Andrea noted from where she leaned against the mantle with her hands crossed over her chest. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Yeah, I thought you said you were an engineer?" Glenn agreed, reading Andrea's cue to initiate the soldier in conversation. "Do all military engineers know strategies for walker attacks?"

"I know 'Apocalypse Defense 101' wasn't a class when I was in school," Maggie threw in with a warm smile.

"Engineering is just a word for problem-solving," Katy finally began, taking the bait as she raised her gaze to meet Glenn's. "There's nothing fancy about it…just looking at a situation and figuring out how to work it in your favor. Fighting from higher ground…dividing your forces to attack from multiple angles…those are just strategies. They aren't anything I made up myself; you can find them in any military history book."

"What I still haven't figured out," Andrea cut in, "is how you _knew_ the walkers would go through the barn. Seems like a big thing to just leave up to luck."

"The important thing is that her plan worked and we're all safe," Hershel cut in, taking pity on the soldier who had no desire to be the center of attention. He then turned his focus on the group as a whole, noting the exhaustion and poorly-concealed yawns crossing their faces. "And I think it's about time we were heading to bed. It's been a long day an' it'll be another long day tomorrow." Everyone hummed in agreement, remembering the yard and pasture were still full of bodies that would need to be piled up and burned.

"Maggie, do you mind lettin' Major Samuels have your room tonight and stayin' with Beth?" Hershel inquired once everyone had quieted down again.

"Not at all."

"Oh, no!" Katy contested once she'd realized what the proposal was—she still wasn't used to being addressed by rank in this harsh world, looking absolutely horrified as Maggie agreed to her father's suggestion. "I can't"—

"Your Humvee is still parked by the barn," Rick said, cutting the soldier off as he motioned to the child now dozing against Katy's shoulder. "And Abby's just about asleep." The keen former officer read the uncertainty clear on Katy's face. "You're not putting anyone out," he assured her. "You just helped save this farm; if anything, we _owe_ you. You've earned it."

Katy seemed to struggle inwardly for several long moments, and Rick worried the proud soldier was going to continue to refuse, but she finally nodded her consent, carefully standing with Abby in her arms. "Since it's only one night."

Rick smiled and nodded before following his wife and son to their room as Maggie led Katy and Luke up to her room, Patricia following with a slumbering Brooklynn in her arms. As Katy crawled between the sheets on her side of the bed, Abby and Brooklyn sharing the middle and Luke on the far side, she found herself completely melting into the pillows, swiftly drifting into the best sleep she'd had in a long time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Revised/Updated 10/3/13**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

At the end of the world, with nothing—not even making it safely through the night—guaranteed for those struggling to make their way amid the chaos and death, it was the small things the survivors learned to take pleasure in. Rather than burying themselves in cell phones and laptops, it was their conversations with their fellow survivors that came to bring the most joy throughout the day. No longer having the Super Bowl or the Academy Awards or the newest blockbuster to look forward to, the group found themselves looking forward to those times when all of the chores were caught up and they could simply sit with a glass of tea and relax.

For Rick Grimes, who came from a small town that had already enjoyed balancing the simple things with the common conveniences of the world before it had careened into chaos, waking in the morning to the smell of sizzling bacon and baking biscuits wafting up the stairs was one of the simple things the former officer couldn't resist relishing in for several long moments. After simply laying in bed for several more minutes than necessary, the deputy rolled over to find the other half of his bed empty, running his hand over the sheets to find them long devoid of warmth.

Assuming his wife was contributing to the delectable smells creeping beneath the bedroom door to tease his senses, the ex-cop rose and dressed quickly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before padding from the room. Making his way through the farmhouse to the front living room, still struggling to pull his body to full awareness, Rick pulled up short as he stepped over the threshold. A dozen eyes turned expectantly in the ex-cop's direction from among the cozy furniture and family photos. His brows furrowing in confusion, Rick scanned the assembled crowd as the rest of the group stepped into the living room from the kitchen with welcoming smiles. Realizing the entirety of the ragtag group he led was present save for their militaristic guest and the three children under her care, suspicion burned through the former officer's gut.

"Good mornin'," Rick said, his misgivings rising as a chorus echoed his greeting. "What's goin' on?"

He followed the movement as the many eyes shifted their attention to where Glenn was rising from his seat on one of the living room couches. Nervousness oozed from every one of the Asian's pores as he wrung his baseball cap in his hands, all attention centered on him. "I wanted—uh, that is—we wondered—if…" Rick couldn't help but grin as the stuttering Asian struggled to voice his thoughts, nerves strung out as everyone stared. Glenn finally seemed to center himself, however, huffing loudly as he focused a determined gaze on the former police officer. "We were wondering if maybe you'd talk to Katy about staying longer."

"That's what's got y'all all worked up?" Rick surveyed the familiar faces of the assembled as he chuckled softly, amused with their hesitant resolve.

"Well, there's already so many people," Glenn replied with a shrug. "And we didn't know what kinda arrangement you had with Katy. She seemed pretty set on stayin' just the one night. But with everything that's happened"—

"She's got an arsenal and the tactical knowledge to make it effective," Andrea noted from where she perched on the edge of one of the wing-backed chairs, leaning forward with her forearms folded on her knees. "We've lost Dale and Shane; we're low on manpower and ammo. We _need_ her to stay."

"She's earned a place," T-Dog added, standing straight from where he leaned against the wall and taking a step forward. "We'd've been sitting ducks last night if she hadn't'a stuck around. We owe her."

Rick cast an assessing gaze over the group as many of them nodded their agreement. It seemed they'd already put this topic up for discussion and were presenting the idea to him for approval. Rick himself had stayed awake much of the night before thinking mostly along the same lines as the group before him. Not only did Katy have specialized training and weapons in her employ, but the officer noticed she also seemed to possess a strong sense of moral character. The soldier had _willingly_ granted them use of her weapons and ammunition, possessions more precious than the purest gold in this chaotic new world they lived in, and offered up her own expertise in approaching the best way to defend the farm. To finish off the feat of ingenuity and selflessness, Katy had then put herself in jeopardy to defend land that wasn't hers, a group to which she didn't belong, rather than stand on the sidelines and watch. Katy had every right to preserve her ammo and her own skin by leaving them to their own problem, but she hadn't. That form of noble character had been hard enough to find _before_ the dead had begun to rise, and Rick imagined it was a trait even harder to find now.

"Is everyone in agreement about this?" Rick asked, searching the faces of the people he considered family until finding a familiar face of stone, a red flag instantly rising as he remembered Daryl's distaste of the situation when they'd first met Katy on the highway the day before. "Daryl?"

The hunter's eyes jumped to Rick's from where they'd simply been looking out over the living room, focusing on nothing and yet seeing everything. Daryl looked genuinely surprised at being personally called upon to give his opinion, which was one reason Rick had found himself doing just that more and more often. The hunter's instincts were not something to be ignored. If Daryl had observed anything that contradicted with what the rest of the group had accepted as true, Rick wanted to know.

"We don't know anythin' about 'er," Daryl finally noted, shifting his weight and clenching his jaw in discomfort as the group's attention turned fully to rest on him. "Last time we thought about takin' someone in, he turned out to be a threat that nearly got us killed." The room filled with a palpable tension at the reminder of their now-deceased prisoner and the menace he'd presented, and Daryl's next words hung in the air, poking a hole in the group's optimism as effectively as the hunter's patented scowl. "I ain't willin' t'risk everythin' we've worked for on one good deed."

"But we're people who repay our debts," Lori noted from the kitchen doorway, pulling her husband's attention away from the observant hunter and to his wife. "T-Dog's right: we owe her. It's obvious Katy's completely exhausted—barely running on fumes. Trying to protect those kids all alone…it's amazing she's made it this long. If she stays, she won't have to constantly be on guard and watching her back; she can relax, refuel her energy. Even if we don't invite her to stay permanently, we can't just send her on her way straight off. Not after last night."

"Ya still gonna feel that way when she's got a gun t'yer head?" Daryl's voice was sharp, cutting as he fixed a fierce glare on Lori, who visibly recoiled at his caustic words.

"You don't know she'd do that," Maggie cut in from her seat on the couch beside Glenn, her brows furrowing as she met the hunter's steely gaze.

"An' you dunno she won't!" Daryl fired back, taking a step forward. "You gonna risk yer life on a guess?!"

"Alright, alright!" Rick cut in, stepping further into the room and holding his arms out in a placating manner before the debate could escalate further. Daryl's mouth pressed into a thin line as he stepped back against the wall at Rick's order, but his eyes still burned with conviction and Rick knew the hunter was unwavering in his opinion of Katy's threat level. "Hershel, what do you think?" Rick turned to the aging patriarch in attempt to get the discussion back on track. "This is your farm. What're your feelings on the matter?"

"If not for Major Samuels, this wouldn't be my farm anymore," Hershel noted slowly. "What security we have right now we have because of her. She's taken care to respect our rules and made sure the children have as well. I see no reason to send her on her way immediately if she wishes to stay."

Rick nodded, casting a look over the group again as they all looked to him, awaiting his decision. "I'll talk to Katy before breakfast. If she's even open to the idea, I'll talk to her about staying a few more days." he rested a heavy gaze on Daryl, whose scowl had only deepened at Rick's words. "I won't suggest anything permanent until those few days give us a chance to learn more about her. If anything seems the slightest bit off, we'll send her on her way. Can everyone accept that?" The group hummed and murmered their agreement, save for Daryl, who only nodded curtly, his hard expression saying he was anything but happy with Rick's decision. "Where _is_ Katy?" Rick then asked. "She still asleep?"

"She's outside," Hershel revealed. "Has been since dawn."

"Outside?" Rick repeated with surprise in his voice. "Doin' what?"

"Dunno," Maggie shrugged. "Me an' Beth went out t'milk the cows an' gather eggs an' she was already out, jus' walkin' 'round in the south pasture. Seemed focused, whatever she was doin', so we left 'er alone."

"I guess I'll go find 'er then," Rick said with a nod, moving toward the door. "Let 'er know breakfast is ready."

"There's one more thing," Andrea called, causing Rick to pause halfway across the room as he wondered how the group had come up with so much to discuss first thing in the morning.

Eyes then shifted to Daryl, who shook his head with a huff before meeting Rick's gaze. "Me an' Glenn found Randall last night before the herd showed up," the redneck revealed. "He'd turned, but he hadn't been bit. Katy told us…whatever the infection is…we all carry it."

"Katy's right," Rick returned after a moment, glancing around as the group as he felt all eyes turn to him.

"What—you knew?" Daryl asked, seeing the lack of shock or surprise on the ex-deputy's face.

"At the CDC," Rick began slowly, "Jenner told me. We're all infected."

"So you did know?" Carol cried from one of the couches. "You knew this whole time and you never said anything?!"

"I had no way to know for sure," Rick defended himself as he saw the shock and betrayal resonating on the faces around him. "You all saw how crazy he was!"

"But it wasn't your call!" Glenn hissed, shooting to his feet and stepping forward in one fluid motion. "When I found out about the walkers in the barn, I told for the good of everyone!"

"And look how that turned out. I thought it was better everyone didn't know." Rick's expression was cold as he looked Glenn straight in the eye before meeting everyone's gaze one by one. "It doesn't change anything. They're still dead. We still aren't." When no one else said anything, he continued his journey to the front door. "If there's nothin' else needin' discussion, I'm gonna find Katy." Met only with silence, the former officer exited the house, eager to escape the judgmental stares several members of the group sent after him.

* * *

><p>Rick's hand hesitated on the doorknob a moment once he reached the front door. The heavy wooden entrance was customarily thrown open to allow fresh air to filter through the house, and Rick offered a fleeting thought to why the habit had been broken before resolutely turning the knob to let himself out. The moment Rick opened the front door, he nearly staggered back and slammed it closed again as his stray thought was answered with the smell of probably hundreds of rotting corpses sweeping over him. Wrinkling his nose against the pungent odor, he instead quickened his pace over the threshold and swiftly closed the door behind him to save the house from pollution. Stepping through the sea of corpses littering the porch and moving out to the yard, Rick scanned the property for the only living human not currently in the house, resting his hands on his hips and squinting against the early morning light.<p>

"Morning, officer," came a voice behind him, and Rick turned to find that he'd walked right past the woman he was looking for. "Not lookin' for me, are you? Whatever it is, I promise I didn't do it."

Rick chuckled as he returned to the porch, sidestepping the german shepherd he hadn't even noticed taking up residence on the steps and setting his sights on the object of his search. Picking his way over to one of the few spots of flooring not contaminated by walker entrails, Rick cast an assessing eye over the numerous guns—he assumed they were all the ones used the night before—sat up against the porch railing. Having not been at the house when Katy had outfitted his group with the necessary weapons to defend the farm, Rick hadn't seen the extent of the arsenal Katy had loaned out, and held in a low whistle as he mentally catalogued the various makes and models of the weapons before turning his attention to their owner.

Katy herself perched precariously on the porch's narrow banister, cross-legged with her back to one of the posts that supported the roof. The soldier had already outfitted herself for the day, Army fatigue pants tucked into tightly-laced tan combat boots and paired with a long-sleeved T-shirt the color of sand hinting at the lifestyle the woman had lived before the apocalypse, and seemed incredibly intent on her current task. Not even looking up at the officer as he stood beside her, Katy threaded a piece of cloth through a small rod before running the rod through what Rick recognized as the barrel of one of her Berettas. A gun-cleaning kit sat open in her lap and the rest of the pieces to the pistol were laid out one by one on the towel she'd spread long ways across the railing. Respect and care were evident in the gentleness with which Katy handled the tube as she inspected it thoroughly, and Rick felt as though perhaps he were committing some kind of crime by disturbing the brunette.

"As a matter of fact, I _was_ looking for you." Rick trudged on regardless, determined to fulfill the task he'd promised his group he would complete, pausing to look at the numerous pieces of the single weapon laid out on the towel. From the shine of the pieces, he guessed he'd caught her right as she was finishing the gun she was on. "Are you planning to detail strip _all _of these to clean them?"

"Yup," Katy replied simply, putting the barrel in its place on the towel before picking up the frame of the gun, beginning to sift through a pile of tiny parts in order to reassemble the fully-cleaned pistol. "I've been meanin' to for a while and last night gives me the perfect excuse."

"That's gonna take all day by yourself," Rick observed as he looked at the extensive assortment of guns still needing cleaned. "You should let us help. We all used the guns, so it makes sense that we'd all pitch in."

"_You_ know how to detail strip an M-16?" Katy raised her focus from her task to quirk one eyebrow over the aviators that Rick guessed were a permanent fixture on her face while outside, as he'd yet to see her without them.

"Well, no," Rick admitted, causing Katy to return her attention to the weapon in her hands with an air of dismissal, slipping pieces back in place with a familiarity that revealed years of experience as she proceeded quickly through reassembly. "But you could always strip the weapons and put them back together while we do the parts in between. With all of us pitchin' in, it'd be done in no time." Rick continued when Katy didn't answer. "Hershel an' Maggie said you've been out here since dawn, but that's the first gun you've finished. Seems like you'd _want_ help."

"This is the first gun I've finished 'cause I just started about an hour ago," Katy informed the former sheriff with a laugh. "I'd say I'm not doin' too bad for a full strip, cleanin', inspection, lubrication, an' puttin' it all back together. Maybe not record time, but—"

"Then what were you doin' before if you just started? There's no way you're just out here for fresh air."

Katy chuckled, her nose crinkling as if agreeing with the fact that, quite frankly, the air was putrid. "I walked the property," the soldier revealed. "Took care of a couple stragglers an' a few walkers that were still wigglin'. Got the guns y'all left in the barn, too."

"No one said they heard any shots," Rick mused, knowing any gunfire would've woken him immediately.

"Didn't use a gun," Katy returned simply with a nonchalant shrug. "Just 'cause I'm accustomed to gettin' up early doesn't give me the right to wake everyone else up. Daryl especially seems like the kind that would wake up if I stepped on a crunchy leaf half a mile away." Her Beretta reassembled into a field strip, Katy paused in her construction to squirt what Rick assumed was gun lubricant on a cloth she pulled from the kit in her lap, running it over the remaining components as she continued. "T-Dog on the other hand…pretty sure I could fire a rocket launcher right next to his ear and he wouldn't wake up. The man was sawin' logs all night."

Rick took a moment to rein in his laughter before concern crept into his tone. "You should've waited. Any of us would've come out here with you if you were dead set on checkin'. You could'a been bit!"

"Could'a been, but wasn't. Not too worried 'bout it," Katy returned as she finished assembling her pistol and ran the cloth over it one more time to make sure any oils transferred from her hands during reassembly were removed. "It needed done before any of the kids tried to come outside. Abby has a habit of blunderin' into trouble every chance she gets. Besides, I was already up and needed somethin' t'do."

"Well, you need to take a break since you're done with that gun," Rick declared as Katy set the now-shining pistol on the towel before her. "Breakfast is about ready."

Katy nodded and closed the cleaning kit in her lap, discarding it on the towel next to her pistol before carefully unfolding her legs and dismounting from her perilous perch, mindful of the guns below. Rick held an arm out to stop her as she stepped toward the front door.

"I want t'talk to you about somethin' 'fore you head in there," the ex-cop explained as Katy looked between him and the arm he was holding in front of her chest questioningly. "It's about you stayin' here." Katy stepped back to lean against the porch rails, crossing her arms over her chest in a silent signal she was listening. "The group ambushed me this mornin' an' wanted me to request that you stay a few more days to relax an' refuel before you hit the road. We figure it's the least we could do after the way you stuck your neck out for us last night."

The corners of Katy's mouth turned down into a frown and Rick had a feeling he knew what was coming before the woman had even opened her mouth. "I appreciate the offer, Rick, but I said just one night. No imposing or interfering, an' I already feel like I've done both. With all these walkers layin' around, I was thinkin' on askin' about stayin' around this mornin' to help get rid of 'em—seems only fair since I helped put 'em down—but another night, much less a few days…"

"No offense, Katy, but you look exhausted," Rick began as Katy trailed off with a sigh and shake of her head. "You need a place to crash an' regain your energy without constantly havin' to be on guard, an' we're in a position to offer you that. I understand you don't wanna impose, but after what you did for us last night, none of us, especially me, are comfortable sendin' you on your way without even a full night's rest."

"Not comfortable?" Katy said, her brows furrowing as her frown deepened. "My safety isn't you people's concern."

"And our safety wasn't yours." Rick kept his voice firm as he implored the soldier before him to understand. "But you took responsibility for it anyway. I like to think of myself as a man who repays his debts to the best of his ability."

"Debt or no debt," Katy returned with a huff, rubbing the back of her neck as though uncertain. "Fact is, I don't do well with groups. I'm better on my own. Just me, the kids, and Brutus."

"Is that a 'no'?" Rick could practically see the thoughts and logic tumbling around in the woman's brain as she stared at her boots for several long moments, and he found himself holding his breath as he waited for her answer. Finally, she looked up once again, and Rick found himself releasing a sigh of relief as she gave him her answer. It wasn't quite what he was hoping for, but it was better than what he'd feared.

"It's an 'I'll think about it."

* * *

><p>"Katy!" Rick noticed the woman before him tense despite the warm smile coming from Patricia as she'd cried the soldier's name as she and Rick entered the house, and the former deputy found himself curious as to what would cause such a reaction. "You're just in time! The last bit of breakfast is goin' on the table."<p>

"Good morning," Katy replied, her shoulders relaxing as she surveyed her surroundings, and Rick thought maybe the tension was simply a natural reaction to a sound she hadn't been expecting. The former cop could find no harm in being overly vigilant, and let Katy's reaction slide.

"Come on in and grab somethin'," Lori said. "While it's still fresh and none of this lot has dug into it." She gestured to where everyone stood around the bountiful breakfast offering and waited impatiently for the green light.

"Oh, no, they can go ahead," Katy countered quickly as she pulled off her sunglasses and hung them from the collar of her T-shirt. "I need to go wake up the kids. Abby'll be furious if she misses breakfast. She's been begging for pancakes every morning for the last few weeks."

"They're still asleep?" Rick asked in surprise as he glanced around the room. Sure enough, three blonde-haired, blue-eyed children were missing.

"Oh, yeah," Katy confirmed with a roll of her eyes. "Luke isn't so bad, but Abby'd sleep 'til noon everyday if me or Luke let 'er. And Brooklyn's goin' through a growth spurt right now, so sleepin' is her favorite pastime." Without waiting for any further comments, the brunette quickly ascended the stairs on feet that were near-silent despite being clad in heavy combat boots, allowing Rick to suddenly realize how she'd managed to slip outside undetected.

The moment Katy had been swallowed by the bowels of the farmhouse's second story, expectant eyes were on Rick for the second time that morning. This time, however, it took no critical thinking for the former officer to understand why. "She said she'd think about it," he revealed, a few faces seeming disappointed at his words.

"You find out what she was doin' out so early?" Hershel asked, his hands resting on the back of his chair in his customary spot at the head of the table as everyone began filing into their seats.

"Yeah." Rick slid into the empty chair beside his wife as he met the patriarch's intent stare. "She said a few walkers from last night didn't get put all the way down and some more straggled in overnight. She took care of 'em."

"By herself?" Lori demanded, concern evident in her face. "Rick, she could'a been bit! She"—

"Is used to doin' things on 'er own," Rick said firmly. "She's been by herself maybe since all of this started." Lori sighed but nodded, focusing her attention on the platters of scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy, and fried potatoes making their way around the table as her husband continued. "Besides, I'd rather her have done it this morning than one of us be caught by surprise when we go out there later."

The group hummed their agreement as they tucked into their food, the growling of their stomachs overpowering their desire to wait for their guests. Rick paused before taking a bite of his eggs, however, struck by the thought that he most likely wouldn't be consuming the breakfast before him if not for the arrival of the guests missing from the table. He then found himself setting his fork down, content to wait until Katy and the children under her care joined them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Revised/Updated 10/3/13**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

"There they are!"

At Patricia's warm exclamation, the group's attention turned to the entrance to the dining room, where Katy's charges had decided to grace the household with their presence. Brooklynn and Abby each clung to one of their guardian's hands, blonde curls sticking up in all directions as they rubbed bleary eyes, while Luke followed dutifully behind like a duckling following its mother. Abby grinned and waved at the group upon noticing she was the center of attention, and a round of chuckles filtered through the dining room as Katy rolled her eyes and directed her two older charges to the empty places at the smaller table housing Carl, Beth, and Jimmy. Once the two children had settled, Katy scooped up Brooklynn, crossing over to the table and slipping the happily-gurgling infant into the highchair situated at the corner of the table. Graciously accepting the extra plates Patricia passed to her, Katy otherwise remained silent as she hastily assembled plates for each of the children.

"There's milk in the fridge if y'all would like that with your breakfast," Patrica offered when Katy had left the table to retrieve several glasses and the brightly colored sippy-cup she'd brought inside for Brooklynn the previous evening. "Fresh from the cows this morning. And coffee, if you'd like."

"Coffee." Katy practically moaned, the two syllables music to her ears. It had been a long time since she'd had a good, strong cup of coffee. She put the thought off for a second, however, in favor of getting the children settled to their breakfast first.

"Thank you," Abby and Luke chimed in unison when Katy slid two glasses of milk and plates of scrambled eggs and biscuits smothered in gravy before them. Brooklynn simply squealed when she received her breakfast, but Katy felt that was close enough as she slid into her seat after pouring herself a large cup of coffee, simply breathing in the comforting aroma before taking a drink and setting it on the table.

"Did you sleep alright last night, Katy?" Lori inquired once the soldier had settled into her spot. "You were up and about really early."

"Wonderfully," Katy assured the petite brunette a few spots down from her at the table. "Old habits of sunrise reveille just die hard even at the end of the world." Katy cast a glance over the table as a whole, setting her gaze on Hershel as she continued. "The hospitality is very much appreciated."

"We're glad we could oblige," Hershel returned, watching as Katy expertly crumbled two biscuits on her plate before smothering them in gravy.

"So, Katy…where did you go to school?" Rick asked, tearing Katy from determinedly devouring the food before her. It hadn't struck her how hungry she was until she'd walked into the dining room and the smell of a home cooked meal had attacked her senses like a starving man would attack a Christmas ham.

"Excuse me?" she asked dumbly once she'd politely swallowed her food, offset by the seemingly random question. _Personal. Too personal_, her mind screamed, but she quieted the voice down. Her situation with these survivors may have been temporary, but she still needed to seem cooperative until the time came for her to leave. Humans were a naturally curious race, and it would seem odd for her to circumvent every question sent her way. She could do the basics. That wasn't pressing too far.

"Major is an officer's rank," Rick noted, remembering how he'd told the group they would try to learn more about their guest. "Which requires a bachelor's degree if I remember right. And, if I'm not mistaken, that's a college ring." He gestured to Katy's left hand where she reached for her coffee cup.

"Yes, sir," Katy confirmed, pausing in her pursuit of the cup of caffiene before her to slip her thumb under her first two fingers to rotate the gold band sitting on her third finger as she looked down at the onyx stone. She really wasn't one for jewelry: her ears had never been pierced, and she even found herself getting annoyed with her dog tags from time to time. This ring, however, was one she'd worn faithfully for nearly nine years. She'd fought hard for this ring, had even bled for it on multiple occasions, and it wasn't something one simply kept in a jewelry box. "I graduated from West Point. Class of two-thousand-two."

"West Point?" Rick echoed with interest as his respect for the woman immediately grew. "What made you decide to go there? West Point is one of the best schools in the nation, but if you could get in there…why them versus some Ivy League? Yale or Harvard?"

"My family has a _huge_ military legacy," Katy revealed. This wasn't exposing too much, Katy decided. All one would've had to do back before the world had fallen apart was type her name into a search engine to learn most of what she was about to tell. "My dad's side of the family has had _at least_ one person in the Army in every generation tracing back to the French and Indian War. Two Congressional Medals of Honor…I couldn't even tell you how many Purple Hearts…it's a pretty intense heritage. My dad and his dad and his father before him…all raised in the military. I wasn't any different, so it was expected for me to follow tradition. I decided I'd rather go Officer than Enlisted, so I tried for West Point and ended up gettin' in."

"If you were raised Army, you musta moved around a lot as a kid," Maggie guessed before taking a drink of her own coffee just as Katy reached for hers.

"I got really lucky actually. I've moved more since I finished West Point than I did as a kid," Katy said with a shrug, turning her attention to Hershel's eldest after she'd taken a sip of the heady and invigorating mixture warming her hands through the ceramic mug she clutched closely. "I was born at Ft. Sill, on the outskirts of Lawton, Oklahoma. My dad was transferred to Germany for three years when I was five, an' then we spent a year down in Texas. My dad got posted back at Ft. Sill after Desert Storm and I didn't move again until I went to West Point in New York for four years. I've been all over since graduation, though. Missouri, Kentucky, Alabama, Germany, Iraq, Afghanistan…I got posted at Benning back in two-thousand-six before my tour in Afghanistan. Got shipped back to Kansas after my deployment and came back to Benning last December." She shrugged again. "The Samuels family isn't really known for being stationary."

"Why've you moved so much?" Lori asked next. "Problems with the units you were stationed with?"

A derisive snort escaped before Katy could hold it in. "If you've got problems with your unit, command pretty much tells you to soldier up an' get over it or get out." She shook her head. "The units weren't the problem. There wasn't a problem, in all actuality, other than that I wanted to do as much as I could as far as training goes. Kept jumpin' 'round from school to school, tryin' to make myself as much of an asset to the Army as possible."

"How'd you manage that?" Rick threw in, eager to learn what kinds of learning experiences had shaped the soldier before him into the ally he hoped she would become.

"West Point lets their students go through the different qualification programs during the summers between school years, so I did Airbourne school after my first year and got my Air Assault wings after my second. I got accepted to go through Sapper school the summer before my last year at West Point," Katy began. "Then once I graduated I was shipped out to Engineer School before going through aviation school and SERE at Fort Rucker. After my tour in Iraq, I was promoted to Captain and transferred to Benning. After Afghanistan, Command sent me to the Command and General Staff School in Kansas. Since I made Major this past April, I was going back this fall in hopes of earning my Masters degree in Military Arts and Sciences."

"What does all of that mean?" Jimmy asked innocently and eagerly, turning in his seat at the other table so that he could see Katy as the former soldier poked at her eggs that were beginning to grow cold. She hated being the shiny new toy that everyone had to play with and figure out, but she understood the group's desire to suss out more information, and so clamped down the desire to get testy. "I don't think any of us speak military beyond the basics."

"It means I have an extremely varied skill set," Katy said simply, sending a conspiratory wink the teenager's way.

"So you were definitely plannin' on stickin' with the military your whole life," Rick inferred, noting the skills the military had taught the soldier before him were thus far proving damn useful in this dark and brutal new world.

"Yessir," Katy stated plainly. "It's all I've _ever_ planned to do."

"What was it like overseas?" Jimmy asked next, his eyes bright with curiosity. Katy mused that it was probably a good thing the world had ended before the teen had finished high school; he was over-eager, wanting to explore the world outside of rural Georgia. A recruiter would've had him signing a contract before the boy had even stopped to blink.

"No offense, kid, but if there's one thing you learn from a multi-generational military family, it's that warzones are not something to be discussed over breakfast." With that, Katy stuffed a large forkful of eggs in her mouth, a silent sign that she didn't wish to expound on that particular subject. _Personal. Too personal._ She could tell the kid was disappointed with her answer, but she found herself apathetic. A heavy silence fell over the assembled survivors, and Katy was grateful for the chance to finish her breakfast.

As she rose from the table to deposit her dishes in the sink several minutes later, Katy felt eyes watching her. The former soldier glanced around in what she hoped was a casual manner, not wishing to alarm anyone around her even as warning bells blared through her brain in sync with the hairs at the nape of her neck standing on end. A chill crept over Katy's spine as she mentally accounted for each group member. They all bustled about like an ant colony, Lori, Carol, Patricia, and Beth working to clear away the breakfast debris while the children wandered into the living room to play at Lori's order. Seeing nothing particularly out of the ordinary, Katy attempted to shake off the unwanted feeling of being studied as she scooped Brooklynn out of her highchair and carried her to the living room, but failed miserably as she sense the gaze following her movements through the house.

She knew this hadn't been a good idea. The end of the world was no time to get cozy with strangers, and yet, while Katy certainly hadn't pulled this ragtag group into her inner circle and told them all of her deepest, darkest secrets, neither had she taken the children in her care and bolted for the highway first thing in the morning as she should've. It was all because of that tiny voice in the back of her head—the same one that had convinced her to spend precious ammo on securing a farm full of strangers. The same one that told her these people were _good_. That it was her _duty _to protect them. The other voice in Katy's head, the survivalist, the warrior who had seen more shit than she cared to think about, called that tiny voice naïve and reckless and tried desperately to silence it, ordering Katy to obey the rules laid down in this evil new world. And yet, somehow it was the tiny voice that had once again managed to silence the survivalist.

It was the tiny voice that had sent her out into the early morning chill to make sure there would be no unpleasant surprises for these strangers when they ventured outside. It was that tiny voice that pleaded with her to consider Rick's offer when the former officer had approached her, all kind smiles and sincere blue eyes, and invited her to stay longer. That tiny voice insisted Katy needed people in order to survive this brutal existence. Katy hated the tiny voice. Hated it for being loud and clear and _right. _Even as Katy watched the rest of the group pull on boots and gloves as they prepared to clear out the walkers and Rick outlined the plan for the day, that tiny voice was there, whispering for her to _watch._ See how this people are _good_? See how these people _smile_ and _laugh_? See how they _live_?

Katy nearly screamed in relief when the tiny voice was cut off by the return of that niggling feeling that someone was watching her. Checking the survivors again swiftly, Katy nearly took a step back when she suddenly locked onto ice. It was Daryl's wolf-like blue eyes that had been watching her so closely, making her feel so uncomfortable. The hunter gave no acknowledgement that she had caught him, but simply turned and followed the others outside to begin clearing the cadavers from the property. Though the survivalist's voice told her _ .go_, Katy found herself ignoring that voice once again, slipping her aviators down over her eyes like a safety mask as she followed the survivors outside to help with the day's task. Still, she did sate the survivalist voice in her head, watching the enigmatic redneck closely while Rick split the group into teams. The former soldier didn't know what she expected, but still found herself staring at the back of Daryl's jacket as though the reason he'd been studying her so intently would suddenly be emblazoned between the angel wings.

* * *

><p>Her hands on her hips as she tilted her head back to soak in the sunlight and the gentle breeze skipping across the pasture, Katy inhaled deeply through her mouth, avoiding the rancid stench of decaying corpses cooking in the sun or else slowly burning to ashes that permeated the air. She then leaned backwards until a satisfying pop sounded from her lower back, causing her to sigh in relief. She'd spent hours now bent over and dragging bodies along the dirt before hoisting them into the back of the blue pick-up to be carried to the nearest fire and burned. Though not one to complain, the monotony and physical strain of the labor was something she hadn't experienced in some time and her body protested the adjustment into such repetition.<p>

Scanning the layout before her, Katy easily picked out the four rising columns of black smoke that served as funeral pyres for the hundreds of nameless dead scattered across the property. It had been Glenn's stroke of ingenuity that had resulted in four fires being built: one near the house, one between the farmhouse and barn, and two out in the pasture where most of the bodies lay. With such a large area to cover, the workforce had then divided, with those clearing out the pasture being granted use of the blue pick-up truck and the red truck with a camper shell over the bed, to which they'd hooked a flat-bed trailer. Maggie, Beth, and Jimmy concentrated on the area in and near the barn, and Hershel and Patricia focused their efforts on clearing off the porch and ridding the yard of the cadavers in various states of decay.

Katy had joined Rick and T-Dog in clearing out the eastern half of the south pasture using the blue truck, while Daryl, Andrea, and Glenn worked diligently on the western half with the truck and trailer after a quick discussion had noted Daryl had the most experience pulling a trailer.

Katy had chosen not to point out that she'd been hauling horsetrailers and fishing boats since she'd been old enough to reach the gas pedal and see over the steering wheel at the same time. Such information tread too close to personal with these strangers, and all she wanted was to do her share of the work and then disappear. She wouldn't admit to anyone but the voices in her head that she also didn't say anything because Rick had already put her on his corpse-clearing team, and driving the other truck meant she'd likely be put on a team with Daryl and be constantly attacked by those eerie blue eyes. She wanted to think that after the things she'd experienced in her life she couldn't be unnerved by something as simple as a staring redneck, and pointedly ignored when both the tiny and survivalist voices told her that wasn't true.

Katy returned her focus to the present as Rick pulled up nearby and T-Dog bailed from the passenger seat of the ancient blue truck. The duo had gone to unload a mass of bodies, giving Katy a few shorts moments to herself that quickly came to an end as she looped her hands through the armpits of a particularly hefty former businessman, T-Dog grabbing the ankles and helping her lift the corpse into the truck.

"After this load, we're all takin' a break," Rick declared as he dragged a body to the vehicle. "Carol and Lori got some sandwiches ready for us."

Katy and T-Dog simply nodded and concentrated on their work, piling the bed of the truck full to bursting with corpses. T-Dog and Rick then climbed back in the cab, firing the engine with a low rumble while Katy perched on a clear spot of tailgate, watching the grass and dirt pass beneath her boots where her feet dangled over the edge of the moving truck.

Katy subconciously wrinkled her nose as they approached one of the fires dotting the property. She hated the smell of the burning bodies. She knew it was the best and fastest way to get rid of the twice-damned diseased, but she hated the way the heat of the fire amplified the rotten smell of decay, hated the way the smoke clung to her clothes and hair and caused her to smell as though she herself had died and risen again. She shook her head and returned to the job at hand, dragging bodies from the truck and tossing them in the fire with so many others. The movement was so repetitive she zoned out, her mind wandering until a hand on her shoulder brought her crashing back to reality with a jolt. _Personal. Too personal._

"How 'bout we go grab a patch of shade an' some lunch?" Rick's voice rumbled cheerily behind her. Katy simply nodded and shrugged off the friendly touch as she climbed back into the truck bed, moving to sit on a wheel well before noticing the dark goo smeared all over. Instead, she perched on the much cleaner side, gripping the metal tightly as she swayed unsteadily, the truck thumping through holes and over rises in the land. It reminded her of bygone years growing up in Oklahoma.

_Oklahoma._ The thought of the word alone squeezed Katy's heart and twisted it terribly. She wished Rick had never felt the need to satisfy the group's curiosity by asking that first fateful question and opening the floor for others, even though she'd known they'd ask eventually. Anyone so trusting they would let anyone in their group, even temporarily, without seeking to learn who they were was most likely long gone by now, unable to survive this cruel world where the distrustful flourished and the loose-tounged did not. Still, Katy hadn't thought of her home state since the outbreak began—hadn't allowed herself to. She didn't want her memories of riding horses down to the pond to swim or racing her teammates to the convenient store after basketball or softball practice to fade away, polluted by the image of numerous horses and cattle being taken down and devoured by the people she'd grown up with.

It had been nearly a year since she'd last visited the state she called 'home,' nearly eight months since the first strange stories had begun to appear on the news, heralding the end of civilization as the infection began creeping into cities and towns, and a little over two months since the infection had suddenly gone global, sweeping the world into a firestorm of chaos. Katy wasn't naïve. Katy wasn't an optimist. She knew it was impossible that Oklahoma had somehow magically been skipped over when civilization had imploded. That didn't mean she wanted or had to think about it. She'd rather focus on Oklahoma as it was: obnoxious in its never constant weather and boisterous in its love of football, drinking, and hunting, but lush and teeming with life if one only knew where to look.

Katy knew the world was still full of life. While walking among the fallen walkers to check for any signs of life—or unlife, or whatever their state of being should be dubbed—she'd heard the gobbling of wild turkeys, hoot of an owl, and even saw a small deer—a yearling, she'd guessed, judging by the missing tell-tale spots of a fawn—peeking out of the trees and watching her. _Life is not separate from death; it only looks that way._ A small grin twitched about Katy's lips as her grandfather's proverb popped into the forefront of her mind. Life and death were indeed looking quite similar these days. She couldn't help but wonder if the gnarled old Cherokee elder of the Paint Clan, her mother's father, was still alive, and if so, what he thought of this new world. Last she'd seen him, the old man was pushing eighty-seven and was as spry as ever, still walking old game trails and amusing the children with his old songs and legends. She didn't know what his secret of longevity was, but she hoped it was still serving him well.

The truck rocking slightly brought Katy from her thoughts. She looked up to find that Rick had pulled up to the second pasture fire and the rocking had come from Andrea, Daryl, and Glenn clamoring up to join her in the truck bed. Glenn immediately came and perched beside the soldier while Andrea sat opposite. Daryl, on the other hand, plopped down with his back to the cab, resting his head against the rear windshield and obviously not caring about the muck and goo soaking into his worn jeans. With everyone accounted for, Rick pulled away from the second fire, pointing the weathered truck in the direction of the farmhouse and the group's hard-earned lunch.

* * *

><p>By the time the pasture group reached the porch, the others were already there, reaching for sandwiches and glasses of iced tea from the trays Carol had brought out and trying to avoid getting sprayed by the water hose with which Patricia was spraying the porch floor. She and Hershel had managed to clear their section of the property, aside from cleaning the blood and grime residue from the porch, stairs, and walls, which was the last task Patricia was finishing now. Katy decided it definitely was nice to be able to climb out of the truck and up the porch stairs without having to dodge around walkers.<p>

The last to climb the porch stairs, Katy immediately had a sandwich and a glass of tea thrust in her hands by a smiling Carol. "What is it?" the soldier dared to ask, watching the group bite into their lunch with zeal.

"Just peanut butter and jelly, I'm afraid," Carol said with a smile. "It's not much, but it's good and filling. Patricia made the jelly herself with strawberries from right here on the"—

Carol stopped in surprise as Katy dropped the sandwich on the platter as if it had burned her, stepping back and wiping her hand frantically on her fatigue pants. She then looked up, catching everyone staring at her as though she'd just grown a second head.

"I'm so sorry," she finally managed after her initial panic wore off, meeting Carol's concerned and slightly offended gaze. "That was horribly rude of me. It's just—I'm allergic to strawberries."

"Oh, Katy, I'm sorry!" Carol cried as understanding replaced the surprise in everyone's faces. "If I'd've known, I'd've made sure there was something else for you…Let me go see what I can find."

"No, that's okay," Katy immediately replied, stopping Carol from setting down the platter she held to rush indoors. "No sense in you havin' to go through the trouble of makin' somethin' extra. I'll just grab somethin' of mine." Before Carol could protest, Katy had set her glass of tea down and descended the porch, power-walking across the yard toward the military truck still parked by the barn.

"Poor thing," Carol tutted once Katy was out of earshot. "I don't know that I'd survive being alleric to strawberries."

"Can't miss what you ain't never had," Rick supposed before biting into his own sandwich. The homemade jelly was, indeed, delicious.

"Hell, she just helped a hungry brother out," T-Dog declared, rising to swipe Katy's dropped sandwich from the platter before turning to see Rick looking at him with curious amusement. "No sense wastin' a perfectly good sandwich," he shrugged in explanation.

Everyone paused as they heard the distinctive growl and rumble of the Humvee's deisel engine starting up. A few moments later, the sand colored vehicle pulled around the house and into the yard. Expertly whipping the vehicle into place with only enough pause to shift gears from drive to reverse, Katy moved the truck into position in front of the porch, effectively completing the protective circle of vehicles Rick had ordered formed around the house.

Hopping down from the vehicle, Katy made her way to the back, popping the hatch and lowering the tailgate. She then seemed to be swallowed by the Humvee, her boots the only visible part of her as she climbed into the cargo area. She slid out a few moments later, a bottle of water in one hand while she dragged a large plastic tub with the other. The soldier proceeded to dig through the container, mumbling to herself as she'd pick up one package just to throw it back in and pick up another.

"Are there really so many choices for it to take that long to pick your lunch?" T-Dog asked when Katy finally came back to the porch with a package and the bottle of water.

"You'd be surprised," Katy returned easily, sipping the iced tea she'd left sitting on the porch rail before busting open what most everyone recognized as an MRE. "It's definitely better than what my dad an' uncles were stuck with in their day."

"What'd you finally decide on?" Rick inquired with an amused grin as Katy took up the same perch she'd assumed earlier that morning, her back to the roof support as she balanced cross-legged on the banister with the MRE package in her lap.

"Let's see," Katy began, pulling the package contents out and spreading them before her much like she'd done with the parts of her pistol hours earlier. "Mediterranean chicken, stuffing, wheat bread with cheese, a caramel apple ranger bar—those are my favorites, a peanut butter and chocolate candy bar, french vanilla cappucino—I'll save that for later, and the usual accessories—barbeque sauce, salt, pepper, etcetera." Without further ado, she began getting her chicken set up to heat, devouring everything else while waiting.

Somehow managing to avoid joining the conversation surrounding her aside from when she'd offered to share her candy bar, Katy simply sipped at her sweet tea and studied everyone around her, at times closing her eyes and just listening to them speak. She quickly decided this group was a sincere one. She could pick up no threads of deceit, no trace of hesitation in answers. When the group spoke to one another, they met each other eye to eye. That was good. Straightforward was something Katy could deal with. She also began to pick up on some of the relational undercurrents. Being husband and wife, she already knew about Lori and Rick, but her observant gaze from behind her sunglasses was just catching the soft smile on Jimmy's face when he talked to Beth, the intertwining of fingers between Glenn and Maggie. The tiny gestures made her smile. It was nice to see that romance hadn't quite joined most of the human population in death.

Rick's offer to stay longer burrowed into Katy's brain and clenched around her shoulders like an unwelcome hug. One would think, considering it was only temporary, that the decision would be an easy one, and to someone who hadn't had Katy's upbringing or training, maybe it would be. For Katy, however, the situation had too many variables for a decision to be reached easily. What would she have to give up to stay? Worse, what would she have to give up to leave? To make such a decision, Katy wanted a read on all members of the group.

Katy had spent many years perfecting the art of reading people—it was extremely useful both when playing poker and trying to decide the best way to get the men and women under your command to work together as a cohesive unit. The group as a whole could be labelled as 'good,' but she wasn't positive about all of the individual members yet. Some she couldn't pin down simply because she hadn't spoken to them enough, others because she couldn't get a read on them at all. The second group worried her the most, and only contained two members: Daryl and Hershel.

Katy was nearly certain she could get a read on Hershel by talking to him more and getting him to open up; he seemed to be the general cookie-cutter southern patriarch. The problem lay in that he was primarily quiet and had an expressionless face. A crucial part of getting a good read on someone was reading their face: did their eye twitch when they lied? Did they clench their teeth when they didn't like what was said? Hershel, however, didn't seem to have any physical tells: no nervous twitches, facial tics, nose rubs, or head scratches.

Daryl Dixon was an even more confounding problem. Katy knew a hunter when she saw one. She'd grown up with them. She was one. Daryl Dixon was also one. She hadn't missed the confidence and certainty with which he'd held his crossbow—outfitted with homemade arrows!—when they'd met at the highway the day before, hadn't missed the fact that he made no noise when he walked and had the keen eyes of a hawk and ears of a deer. She'd seen him look around at sounds the others didn't even pay attention to: a scuffle of a boot on a rock, the whining scratch of a fork on a plate.

She'd felt his eyes on her, those stabbing shards of ice attempting to cut through her skin and into her very soul. He was trying to figure her out just as much as she tried to do the same to him. They were both protectors, he of this haphazardly thrown together group of survivors, she of three children she'd promised to keep safe at all costs. Until either she'd left or he'd determined that she wasn't a threat to his group, Katy knew he'd watch her as much as he could with that unreadable and icy gaze. Katy couldn't help but wonder how he'd learned to hide his emotions so well, keeping everything behind an expressionless mask of calm indifference. Katy had a strong dislike of puzzles she couldn't solve, and had a feeling that Daryl Dixon would be one of those puzzles. A cloud of anger choked her brain just thinking about it.

After finishing her food, Katy crept inside the house under the smoke screen of everyone else's conversation to check on her children, finding Brooklyn toddling around the living room under Carol's watchful eye. Abby was coloring, immediately pausing her work to show Katy the princess she'd colored to look like her guardian, as well as the one a few pages over she'd made to represent her mother. The cartoon in a purple and pink dress with blonde hair and blue eyes did Abby's mother no justice, and Katy's heart clenched with the thought that Abby probably wouldn't even remember her mother's voice or smile a year down the line.

After sadly answering Abby's question that no, she didn't think walkers could be princesses, Katy quickly set out to find Luke, grabbing him as he ran past in attempt to hide from Carl in their game of hide-and-seek. After helping the kid find an excellent hiding place beneath the upstairs bathroom sink and then sending the Grimes boy to the basement to look when he slyly asked if she'd seen him, Katy returned outside to find everyone ready to return to the day's work. Feeling her muscles stiffen just at the thought of the next morning, Katy loaded back into the blue pick-up, vaguely thinking that she really owed a large thank you to the commanders and older cadets who had made her life a living hell during SERE training and her summer of basic training before the start of her plebe year at West Point. Once again, her life was a living hell, only this time there was no end in sight.


	8. Chapter 8

**Revised/Updated 10/3/13**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

As the last truckload of diseased bodies was tossed into the flames to disintegrate into foul-smelling ash, collective sighs of relief passed through the survivors standing around the pillar of black smoke. Daryl Dixon didn't join the group in their revelry, the only acknowledgement of a job well done from him being a roll of his shoulders and stretching of his neck. As most of the group celebrated the end of a grueling task, Daryl instead remained silent, his eyes zeroing in on the only other face that remained in the negative range of jubilance. Katy stood slightly off to one side of the group, as far away from the burning corpses and suffocating column of smoke as she could be without seeming completely antisocial. A thin smile played at her lips for the sake of those around her, but other than that she stood blank and rigid, her face as emotionless as if it had been carved from stone.

Daryl didn't know what Rick and the rest of the group were thinking inviting the former soldier to stay longer. Sure, she'd stepped in and helped keep that herd of walkers at bay, and sure, her actions and military resume were impressive. But Daryl knew Katy was dangerous. He could feel it in his bones. It was like the Rottweiler Ol' Man Coppin had kept in the junkyard Daryl used to have to walk by to get to school when he was a kid. That dog was mean as hell, and had taken a bite out of more than one person who'd tried to skim parts from the junkyard in the middle of the night. Ol' Man Coppin appreciated the dog for a job well done, but you didn't see him letting the mutt into the house where it could endanger the old man and his family. In the same way, Daryl was nowhere near comfortable with the idea of Katy being so near to the people he'd decided to keep safe. He wasn't even comfortable with keeping her at a distance like Ol' Man Coppin and his mutt. If there was one thing Daryl knew, it was that he wanted the former soldier far away from the Greene farm.

The hunter couldn't quite decide what had first sent red flags blaring through his brain when it came to Major Katherine Samuels. An observer might have suggested it was simply a natural wariness stemming from the fact that she had successfully bloodied his nose the day before, but Daryl wasn't a petty person. He'd been in enough fights over the course of his nearly thirty-eight years of life to not hold a grudge over something as simple as a well-executed defense. If anything, he could respect Katy's quick reflexes and honed skill.

Daryl thought maybe it was the no-nonsense aura of authority she'd exuded when confronting him and Rick at the highway or organizing the group to defend the farm, but then he'd hear Merle's voice in his head reminding him that there was no authority anymore and his memory would pull up the slightly meek and unconfident way Katy had accepted Rick's thanks the night before, as though her actions carried no weight and she'd rather sink through the floor than be recognized as a leader. Daryl supposed her reaction could be chalked up to good acting, but there'd been something in her body language as she'd humbly accepted the group's gratitude that ruled that option out of Daryl's list. It had almost looked like guilt, which seemed a strange emotion to come from someone who'd successfully fielded a walker herd.

Daryl then came to the conclusion that his mental warnings were due to Katy's way of carrying herself. She moved soundlessly, not even the rustling of cloth alerting Daryl of her position. When she was motionless, she truly became a statue, standing with her arms either by her sides or clasped behind her back. There was no shifting of weight from side to side, no shuffling of feet or swaying of arms. Such lack of motion and sound, reminding Daryl of some jaguar on the prowl, reflected in the way the soldier sat, as well. At breakfast, her back had been ramrod straight even while she ate and carried on a conversation, and Daryl had been under the impression that she'd never truly settled in her chair, her leg muscles coiled and ready to spring like a deer at the smallest out-of-the-ordinary sound. Her voice and speech at the morning meal had also held an air of memorization and recitation. Aside from when she'd abruptly shut down Jimmy's inquiry concerning her deployments—which only added to the suspicion burning through Daryl's intestines as if he'd swallowed acid—there was very little emotion in what Katy said, leaving Daryl wondering if her words had held any truth at all.

All of these were most likely factors in Daryl's wariness of the soldier standing less than fifteen yards away, but, if the redneck were truly honest with himself, he'd admit the biggest variable weighing on his mind was Katy's eyes. Daryl had made the mistake—he'd definitely decided that was a proper label for the experience—of meeting the soldier's eyes after breakfast, when the other factors of her behavior had demanded he survey her further. Though he found nothing physically remarkable about the stranger in the group's midst—she was slightly taller than average with a trim physique obtained from the active lifestyle her career choice had provided, and altogether quite plain in Daryl's opinion—a spark of surprise and chill of suspicion had simultaneously surged through his synapses when the hunter had met Katy's unshaded gaze. The surprise came from the fact that the dark-haired, olive-skinned woman's eyes were not the deep, chocolaty black-brown Daryl had expected to see; instead, her eyes were a swirl of gold and light brown that gave her irises the deep amber glow of unprocessed honey.

The suspicion was born from the fact that those eyes were not cheerful, dancing flames of a friendly soul. Katy possessed cold orbs of ice that refused to warm even with the small smiles and laughs she gave those around her. Katy possessed the eyes of a killer. As that cold, golden gaze, like a fire somehow frozen in a glacier, had caught him studying the former soldier, Daryl had found himself abruptly turning away, discomfort growing in his gut just from the millisecond of eye contact.

Daryl could still hear the clicking of a pistol's slide being pulled back to load a bullet into the chamber, could still hear the cold certainty with which Katy threatened his life. That certainty was reflected in her eyes in that brief moment Daryl met them from across the Greene family living room. Even without hearing her confirmation, Daryl could infer with great faith that the soldier in his group's midst had killed before—and he didn't just mean walkers—and would kill again without hesitation if such a need arose. Though Daryl understood the need to be ready and capable of killing if the situation called for it, and though Daryl was grateful to Katy for the help she'd given the group in the short time they'd known her, that was as far as the redneck was willing to go. It was a solid fact that Daryl Dixon did _not_ trust Katherine Samuels.

* * *

><p>Katherine Samuels enjoyed everything about firearms, from shopping for ammunition to the dismantling and cleaning others would call tedious. It came with growing up in a testosterone-driven family whose idea of a family reunion was meeting at the gun range to pop off enough rounds to supply a small army and then going out for dinner afterwards. And so, it was with no hesitation that Katy climbed up on the roof of her Humvee to clean the carbon residue-coated machine gun mounted there.<p>

As she carefully worked her way through the dismantling of the high-caliber weapon, Katy glanced over to where Daryl and T-Dog had retrieved shovels and were digging a new hole alongside four different rock-rimmed circles of disturbed dirt. Katy had known exactly what was going on the minute Rick had called the two men over once the group had finished burning the walkers, having a quick, whispered conversation before he and Hershel had loaded into the blue pick-up and taken off across the pasture. When Rick and Hershel returned, they would have Shane's body with them and the group would have some semblance of a funeral for the man they'd lost. And so, Katy was otherwise occupying herself.

Some might call her actions disrespectful in light of all the group had done for her in opening their home, albeit temporarily. Katy, however, had not known Shane, and her only interaction with the man had not exactly been a positive one. There was also the fact that the situations surrounding Randall's escape, Shane's alibi, Daryl & Glenn's subsequent discovery of an undead, unbitten Randall, and Rick's return to the farm sans his best friend struck a strange chord with Katy, but she didn't wish to expound on her misgivings so soon after Shane's loss. So, the former soldier reasoned that it was perfectly logical for her to leave the group to their grief while she was productive elsewhere.

Katy remained focused on her task save for a quick glance to make sure the rumbling engine she was hearing was, indeed, the returning blue truck. A dull ache had settled in her muscles from the recoil of her rifles and the monotonous work of disposing of the twice-dead diseased littering the farm, and the motions from cleaning the various pieces of the M2 didn't help the ache, but it was easy for the former soldier to push it to the back of her mind. The ache was an awkward kind of comfortable in all reality, reminding her that she'd made it through another night in this brutal world with her life and limbs still intact. It reminded her that she was safe, that the children were safe, and that her promises remained unbroken.

Katy continued working diligently on her chosen project even as everyone else gathered at the distant graveside, but none of the other survivors seemed to think her actions odd. The former soldier was reassembling the beast of a weapon that was most likely the primary cause of the ache in her muscles when she realized she was no longer alone, a heat settling on her neck that had nothing to do with the mid-afternoon sun. Katy didn't react, however, finishing up her project after deciding her visitor would speak up if bothered. Only after locking everything back in place on the heavy machinery and collecting all of her cleaning supplies did Katy look up—or, rather, down, seeing as how her visitor was on the ground while her eye-level was set several feet above due to her position on the Humvee's roof—to see Rick waiting patiently for her to finish her task.

"Yes, sir?" Katy asked in way of greeting as she swiveled her body around so that her feet hung over the Humvee's roof and her body fully faced the ex-cop below her.

"We're ready whenever you are," Rick said simply, and Katy followed his gesture to where the majority of the group stood, leaned, and sat in various positions all around the area of the porch where she'd left the rifles and pistols still needing cleaned. Oh. So he'd been serious.

"No time like the present," Katy returned with a shrug, shifting her weight forward so that she slid off the side of the Humvee to land lightly beside the former law enforcement officer. She then placed her hands at the base of her spine, leaning back until a satisfying pop issued from her lower back. All of the monotonous movement of the morning had caught up to her while she'd been hunched over the M2, and she couldn't help the satisfied sigh that escaped her throat as some of the stiffness was relieved.

Katy then looked to the man standing beside her, noticing the drawn lines around his eyes and mouth. The day had taken a lot out of Rick, and she suddenly felt as though she needed to say something to this near-stranger despite the fact that she knew her words would be inadequate. "I'm sorry for the loss of your man," she finally muttered carefully, keeping a wary eye on Rick for any hit she'd overstepped her bounds. "I know how hard it is to lose a comrade."

The former deputy seemed to draw in on himself for a long moment, those crystalline blue eyes far away even as their gaze rested on Katy's face. "Thank you," Rick finally said once he'd snapped back to reality from wherever his mind had wandered. He then turned on one heel and walked away, trusting Katy to follow as he made his way to the porch to join the rest of the group.

Katy sighed, watching Rick go before following his steps a moment later. The glance Rick had spared her for just a millisecond before he'd walked away had spoken volumes, and Katy's brain struggled to process the mixture of pain, sadness—and was it relief?—she'd seen in that fleeting stare. Filing it away with the rest of the day's curiosities she wished to puzzle over, Katy redirected her focus to the next task ahead, her shoulders already protesting the extensive repetitive motions she knew were to follow.

* * *

><p>Daryl Dixon had already decided he did not trust Katherine Samuels. That fact did not waver as he joined the group in the next activity on the day's agenda: cleaning the guns they'd used in defense of the farm the previous night. Due primarily to the group's virtual ignorance in the stripping and reassembling of high-powered weaponry, it was quickly arranged for Katy to focus on the taking apart and putting together of the various guns while the others were ready with towels, brushes, and rods to clean whatever bore, spring, or slide was handed their way. Daryl wasn't entirely comfortable with this arrangement, his mistrust of the former soldier sitting across the circle from him only amplifying as the afternoon wore on.<p>

As he ran a cleaning rod through the barrel of a Beretta, Daryl had to admit the ex-military officer surrounded by firearms and sitting cross-legged between Glenn and Andrea a few feet away from him had skills. Despite the apprehension roiling in his gut when it came to the close-mouthed brunette, he found his eyes falling on her hands more than once as the group whittled at the assortment of weaponry, replacing the guns soiled from heavy use with residue-free, shining specimens that begged to be used once more.

There was something beautiful in the way Katy handled a weapon, lithe fingers stripping it down and reassembling it again at record speed and yet with a calm efficiency that made it seem as though she put each piece in its place with the greatest of care. There was no hesitation in her work, each movement assured and confident as she assembled a gun and then pointed it away from the group as though aiming for some wandering walker, making sure the sights were lined up and everything was in place before setting the gun aside and moving to the next one. She was a focused and diligent worker, keeping out of the conversations around her unless specifically drawn in, preferring to concentrate on returning the weapons around her to their gleaming and potentially lethal state.

Even when the screen door creaked open and light footsteps sounded on the wooden planks of the porch, Katy continued dismantling the rifle in her hands as her eyes rose to watch Luke approach. As everyone else's hands stilled with the new distraction, contrasting with Katy's machine-like continuance, Daryl got the distinct impression that Katy could handle each one of these weapons in the dead of night and blindfolded without making a single mistake. It wasn't a calming thought.

"Katy, can I help?" Luke's voice was small in the face of an audience as he shuffled forward, slow to warm to this new group of people and uncertain under the weight of their stares.

"I dunno, can you?" Katy returned, raising an eyebrow at her charge.

"_May_ I help?" Luke amended, more patient with his guardian's correction than Daryl would've been in his shoes. It was the damn apocalypse! Was proper English really so important?

"Yes, you may," Katy returned with a nod of approval as she handed out pieces of the dismantled M4 in her hands before reaching behind her for more cleaning supplies. "Weasel your way on in here."

"Luke gets to help?" Carl cried from where he'd been sitting slightly away from the group, watching with fascination as each firearm went through the cleaning cycle. His eyes darted between Katy and his father. "Why can't I?"

"You ever handled a gun, kiddo?" Katy asked, never averting her attention from Carl as Luke squeezed in to sit on her right between her and Glenn.

"Yeah," Carl confirmed with an eager nod. "Dad showed me how to shoot one an' everything!"

"He show you how to clean one?" Carl's face fell and he didn't answer. "Taught you how to use a gun but not how to take care of one, huh?" Katy said, looking over to Rick as she clicked her tongue in mock disapproval.

"I figured knowing how to shoot was more important at this point," Rick explained with a shrug.

"My dad used t'tell me you could be the best shot in the nation and all that skill wouldn't matter a lick when you got backed in a corner an' your gun jammed cuz ya never bothered t'clean it," Katy pointed out. "He was a stickler for that kinda stuff. Started teaching me how t'take apart an' clean his weapons when I was younger than Abby. I knew how t'clean 'em before he taught me to shoot."

"Can you teach me?" Carl asked, excitement clear on his face as his eyes watched Luke clean the barrel he'd been handed with ease. Daryl couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes at Carl's request, remembering the boy's petition to have Daryl teach him to use a crossbow only a few days before. The kid's curiosity was going to get him killed. "Please?"

"So long as your dad says it's okay," Katy replied with a shrug. Only when Rick had nodded his assent did Katy invite Carl to sit between her and Luke, handing him cleaning supplies before reaching around past the guns that still needed to be cleaned to two Berettas she'd set aside. "You can start with these."

Daryl scoffed as Carl took one of the handguns from Katy and found it heavier than expected, the rest of the group chuckling as Carl looked up at Katy with a hungry curiosity. "Why these?"

"These are mine," Katy explained, and Daryl thought she looked like a preacher with his bible as she ran a careful hand over the slide of the gun she held, reverence and care in her every move. "They get used most often, and therefore get cleaned more. They don't need the full strip the rest of these are getting."

"I thought all of these were yours?" Carl said, his forehead wrinkled in confusion as he gestured to the various weapons, both clean and dirty, on display over the former soldier's shoulder.

"They are," Katy returned easily. "But these ones are more special. I've had them for a lot longer. Look at the slide."

Carl obligingly flipped the gun to view the top of the slide once Katy had clarified what exactly she was talking about, and Daryl suddenly wished he was sitting on the other side of the circle, an innate curiosity awakening with the inability to see what Katy was showing Carl. Whatever it was, Carl was quite impressed as he studied the pistol in his hands reverently.

"These were a gift to my father," Katy continued to explain to the awestruck boy sitting beside her. "And he passed them down to me. Maybe one day your dad will pass something special like these down to you."

Daryl had to hand it to the former soldier for catching the boy's attention. He'd never seen Carl handle anything so carefully as he was the pistol in his hand, glancing over at the matching one in Katy's grasp before looking up to his father with a grin that reminded Daryl of that cat that would disappear on that crazy movie with the girl who kept shrinking and growing and played some stupid game with birds and hedgehogs. A sudden look of trepidation crossed Carl's face, however, and he looked up at Katy with the same hesitation Luke had when he'd stepped out on the porch. Daryl knew that look. That look searched for approval and understanding.

"Are you sure you want to teach me on these?" Carl asked slowly, his face showing he would understand if Katy abruptly reached over and took the weapons from his grasp. "They're yours…a present…what if I mess up?"

Unlike the answers Daryl had gotten when he'd asked such questions as a kid, Katy was full of calm assurance as she gave the boy at her side a soft smile. "You won't mess up," she promised. "I'm a good teacher. Are you ready?"

Carl nodded and Daryl noticed Katy's voice take on that same calm authority she'd exuded when outlining a plan of attack the night before. Weaponry was apparently Katy's element, and she was more than willing to share some of her knowledge with the excited child beside her. Daryl filed that observation away, his gut telling him it could be important later.

"Alright. First, we need to make sure you know the rules for handlin' a gun safely. So, you always wanna keep the muzzle pointed in a safe direction. I usually hold 'em on their sides to clean 'em, but since we're sittin' in a circle, we wanna tilt the guns up or toward the floor. Better a hole in the porch than in the guy sittin' beside you." Katy demonstrated with the pistol in her hands, tilting it down toward the porch floor, and Carl eagerly copied her movements.

"But if you're gonna clean it, don't you wanna make sure there aren't any bullets in it?"

"Yes, but you should _always_ treat a gun like it's loaded, even if you know it ain't. And you should keep your hands away from the trigger as much as possible. Understand?"

Carl nodded his understanding and Katy pressed on with her lesson. "Good. Now, the first thing to do when cleaning a firearm is check and double-check that it's unloaded. Feel how heavy it is." Katy swapped her weapon from hand to hand and Carl was quick to do the same with its twin. "You think it's loaded or unloaded?"

"Loaded?" Carl replied uncertainly after switching the pistol from hand to hand a few more times.

"Yep," Katy confirmed with a nod and a smile. "So make sure the safety is on and then eject the magazine like this:" she picked up the matching Beretta in her lap, tilting it up toward the porch ceiling as her thumb automatically found the safety lever and her finger found the release button on the side of the grip, allowing the clip to drop into her lap.

Carl copied her in a slower, clumsier fashion, the magazine sliding out and hitting the planks of the porch with a thunk, and Daryl braced himself for a tongue-lashing that never came. Katy simply praised the boy and carried on with her lesson, and Daryl's head spun as he remembered his own lessons in cleaning a gun. There had been much more aggression in his teacher, and much less margin for error. Daryl struggled to reconcile the woman before him, nodding at Carl and encouraging him as she talked him through dismantling her pistol, with the killer he'd decided she was that morning. He couldn't quite get the pictures to mesh, and that only served to frustrate him further. There was still one thing of which he was absolutely certain, however: he would be happy when Major Katherine Samuels was gone.

* * *

><p>Rick couldn't help but smile at Carl's excitement over the new knowledge he was gaining under Katy's careful tutelage. Even when Katy's pistols had both been cleaned and set aside, Carl remained in the circle, cleaning any pieces sent his way and barraging the ex-soldier with questions as to each pieces' use and importance. Rick had considered calling his son off on more than one occasion, but Katy patiently answered every question and didn't seem to be annoyed by the constant inquiries. If anything, she welcomed them, and so he let the boy be, knowing it'd break Carl's heart to be sent away.<p>

Katy was dismantling the last weapon to be cleaned, a large sniper rifle that Rick knew he'd seen Katy carrying during the farm assault, when Lori came out on the porch to crouch behind her husband. "Dinner is just about finished whenever y'all are ready," she said, kissing Rick on the temple.

This information alarmed Rick, and he looked around, realizing the sun had come very near setting while he'd been caught up watching Carl learn. "We'll be in just as soon as we finish this last gun," Rick promised once he'd re-oriented himself with his surroundings and the quickly approaching night.

"Mom!" Carl cried as Lori nodded and stood. "Look! Katy showed me how to clean a gun! And she's teaching me everything!"

"You've got a sharp kid," Katy said, looking up to the petite brunette as she reached over and ruffled Carl's hair. "He's been soaking everything up like a sponge."

"It looks like he needs to come soak up some soap and water," Lori stated, noticing several black smudges of carbon residue on Carl's face and hands. "Come on, son, let's go get washed up for supper."

"But Mom!" Carl protested, looking between Katy and his dad as though begging one of them to step in to his defense. "I'm helping!"

"You'd better listen to your mama, kiddo," Katy suggested, and Rick's gratitude stretched out to the soldier for saving him from being the one to break Carl's heart. "We're just about finished anyway. You go ahead." She looked over to the boy on the other side of Carl. "Why don't you go on, too, Luke?"

Luke nodded and stood, leaving his cleaning supplies for Katy to gather and sweeping past Lori into the house. Seeing he wasn't the only one having to leave, Carl stood and joined his mother, both of them going inside as Katy distributed the last gun to be cleaned.

* * *

><p>"Rick, do you think you could give me a hand with these?" The former officer turned from where he'd stood to join everyone for dinner back to where Katy was standing and snapping the last bit of her sniper rifle in place before collapsing and slinging it over her shoulder.<p>

"Sure," Rick agreed, joining Katy in gathering as many weapons as he could before following Katy over to the Humvee to set them all on the tailgate. It was silent work, neither of them speaking until all the cleaning supplies had been gathered and every gun was sitting on the Humvee's tailgate, waiting to be put away. "You know this could've waited 'til after dinner, right?" Rick asked as Katy ran careful hands over her weapons as if making sure they hadn't been dirtied once again in their short trek to the Humvee.

"Yeah, but I wanted a chance to speak to you in private," Katy returned, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning one hip against the Humvee as she faced the former officer.

Dread crept into the pit of Rick's stomach as he looked to the soldier, unable to read her expression in the fading twilight. "What about?" he asked carefully, placing his hands on his hips.

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Okay?" Rick repeated in confusion.

"Shane didn't make it back last night." It wasn't a question.

"No, he didn't."

"He was your best friend."

"Yes, he was."

"He killed Randall."

"Yes, he did."

"You killed him."

The fact that this was again phrased as a statement rather than a question caused Rick to freeze, ice meeting fire as his blue eyes met Katy's, which shined with certainty. This was no lucky guess, Rick realized immediately. No baiting to judge a reaction. That was what that unreadable expression was: the look of someone who has figured out something that they shouldn't have and is worried about the outcome of their newfound knowledge. She _knew_.

"How do you know?" Was all Rick could find to say.

"I didn't know for sure until now," Katy replied, concern and certainty colliding on her face. "You get this blank look on your face anytime someone brings up last night. I've seen that look plenty of times in the past from soldiers who've had to hold a comrade's hand an' watch the life go out of their eyes, knowing they can't do anything to save them but promising everything will be okay anyway. That look that says you've done everythin' you could, given it everythin' you've got, an' it still wasn't enough. An' now that it's done you don't know what to do."

"I—I had no choice," Rick spluttered, his mind reeling. "I"—

Katy held up a hand, halting Rick's words. "I don't need you to explain everything to me. I'm not part of your group and you don't have to answer to me for anything. But, for what it's worth, from what I've seen it seems you did what you had to do to keep your group safe. I just want to know if you're okay."

"I'm not okay," Rick said with a deep sigh. "Not yet. But I will be. Eventually."

"Good," Katy replied as though she'd given him a test and he'd passed with flying colors. "If you'd've said you were perfectly fine, I'd've called ya a liar. Knowing you're not okay means you'll be fine. You'll work through it."

Rick couldn't help but chuckle. This woman before him was an interesting character he hadn't quite figured out. "Is that all you needed?"

"Not quite." Katy took a moment to put her thoughts into words. She'd been weighing this decision all day, and Rick's reply had been the last piece of the puzzle needed for her to make up her mind. "You spoke to me this morning about staying an extra few days, taking the chance to recharge my batteries. And you're right. I could use a few days' rest. And you guys need a fence."

"A fence?" Rick wasn't quite sure where that observation had come from, so he decided to simply run with it, sure the soldier before him had a reason for what she said.

Katy nodded. "I checked out some of the perimeter this morning. The defenses on this place are weak, especially now that the herd last night knocked down several sections of fence. This place is too open: too much area to cover and not enough people to do it. It's amazing this is the first time y'all've come under attack. If y'all're gonna stay here much longer, ya need somethin' heavier an' more permanent."

"So we need a fence," Rick said slowly, Katy's proposal beginning to slide together like a jigsaw puzzle. "And you're an engineer."

"I can take care of the design," Katy confirmed with another sharp nod. "That'll take me a couple days or so to get together. And then I'll be on my way: safety in exchange for safety."

"That seems fair," Rick noted, deciding not to mention that his group fully wished to keep the soldier at the farm permanently. The thought crossed Rick's mind too quickly, however, for it seemed Katy had also anticipated such an outcome.

"If we're going to do this, I need you to promise me one more thing, Rick," the former soldier began, trudging forward without waiting for an answer. "You have to promise that when I decide it's time to leave you'll let me go without any trouble."

"That shouldn't be a problem."

"It never is at first," Katy replied, a bitterness creeping into her tone. "I travelled with a group that promised the same thing. Then, when I decided it was time to split off, the group decided that wasn't a good idea. Things got…violent."

"No one in this group is here by force," Rick said after a moment, noticing the soldier before him had seemed lost in recollection, but had slammed back into reality as he spoke. "You've given me your trust, albeit temporarily, so I'll give you mine. You're welcome to stay as long as needed, and any help you wanna give will be greatly appreciated. When you decide it's time for you and yours to leave, we'll send you off with no hard feelings. I promise." The former police officer held out his hand.

"Thank you, Rick," Katy said with a smile as she slid her hand into Rick's with a firm shake. There had once been a time when a man's word was all he had and a handshake was as good as signing in blood. The world had gone to hell in a handbasket, and it seemed that time had returned.

"We'd best head inside," Rick suggested. "Dinner's gonna be getting' cold an' they're gonna be wonderin' where we're at."

"I'll follow you in just a minute," Katy returned. "I've gotta get these guns packed up so the kids an' I got somewhere to sleep tonight."

"Back to that again?" Rick asked with a laugh. "You're more than welcome to stay in the house with everyone else."

"Temporary, Rick, remember?" Katy pointed out in a half-chastising tone. "Y'all're crowded enough as is. The kids an' I've made it this far in this monster," she patted the sand-colored vehicle on its side, "no sense stoppin' now." Rick shrugged and turned to make for the house when Katy stopped him once again. "Hey, Rick?"

"Yes, ma'am?" Rick turned back around and put his hands on his hips, wondering if he was prepared for the former soldier's next words.

"You should tell the group about Shane. They deserve to know the truth. And no one should carry that burden alone."

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for reading! Please review & tell me what you think! :)

Lauren


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **I'm just going to start this out by saying I'm absolutely, terribly sorry. I never meant to put this on a year-long hiatus. D: I know all my readers probably hate me and want to chase me down with pitchforks and stone me, but I hope maybe you'll all forgive me? Oh, you won't? Okay. Muhh bad. :(

To reiterate, I'm super sorry for the extensive and unforgivable delay. After chapter eight, I wanted to wait to hear more about season three before I continued my plot, just to see what the writers and producers presented us with. Though season three was absolutely phenomenal, I gotta admit I was pretty bummed at first. *Dodges rocks & bullets* The eight-month time gap just made everything feel kind of stilted at first. Like all of a sudden these meek characters are brave & badass & these deep bonds are hinted at without us getting to see why or how they developed. =/ So, I got kinda lost in how I wanted to navigate such a gap with my own story, and finally managed to get everything back on the rails with a plan of which I find satisfying. :)

Also, I've gone through and re-vamped chapters one through eight. If you're a previous reader who joined this journey before October 3rd, 2013, I encourage you to go back and re-read from the beginning. I fixed some things that seemed iffy based on reviews, and edited the story in a way that, I think, has all of the canon characters', as well as my OCs, behaviors a bit more streamlined and consistent. Though the general story line is the same, some changes I've made will be fairly crucial in the long run. It also gives you nine chapters to read instead of one, which is great, right?! Oh, it isn't? You all still hate me? Right. Moving on.

My life has, for once, adopted a pretty constant schedule here lately. So, I WILL, so help me, be updating this story every other Wednesday. So, be on the lookout, & feel free to send me angry PMs should I fail to deliver. Regretably, my first chapter back to this story is a bit filler-ish, but I hope you'll all enjoy it anyway! Thank you sooooo much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and favorited! It means so much that you haven't given up on this story! Please drop some reviews to let me know what you think of the changes, as well as this chapter!

Enjoy!

Lauren

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

For as long as Katy had remembered, she had loved fall. While others had lamented the loss of summer's heat and dreaded the impending chill of winter, Katy had relished in the kick-off of football season, the falling leaves, the crisp weather that had her exchanging shorts and tank tops for jeans and scarves. Even now that the world ended, Katy saw no reason to give up that love. Pausing in the careful notes she was jotting on the notebook in her hands, the former soldier closed her eyes and tilted her head back, soaking in the early-morning autumn sun and inhaling the crisp, early September air. The leaves had yet to change color, but Katy knew it was coming as she listened to a slight breeze rustle through the trees. A slight yearning built in Katy's gut as she imagined the beauty that would envelop the Greene farm when the trees looked like they burned with flames rippling through their branches, but she quickly quashed it down. She wouldn't be lingering long enough to see the land's metamorphosis, and speculation would not help her with her current task.

Returning her attention to her work, she continued her stroll through the Greene family's pastures as she circled their land, always keeping the farmhouse itself in the corner of her eye. The land was truly beautiful with all of its rises and falls, tall grasses flanked by lush forests Katy had a keen desire to explore, and herd of cattle grazing in the distance, and Katy felt the sudden rush of being teleported across half the country to her grandfather's ranch. Though she knew she wasn't back in Oklahoma—the dirt would be redder, the air drier, and she'd be hearing horses rather than cattle—Katy couldn't stop the torrent of memories spewing forth, brought on by the familiarity of the territory.

Her grandfather, voice calm and assured as he talked Katy through assisting a mare deliver a breeched foal, glowing with pride once his granddaughter had succeeded. Her grandmother, all warm smiles that made the skin around her eyes crinkle as she shared the stories and legends of her people. Her uncle Edward, so intense and focused on everything he did, barking at Katy to be more careful as she cut herself on an arrowhead. Her twin cousins, mirroring each other all the way down to their flip-flopped families, one with four girls and a boy, the other with four boys and a girl. Her grandparents, three uncles, two aunts, her father, brother, and an army of cousins, voices all mingling together and bouncing off of each other as they enjoyed an extensive dinner. That was her family. That was _home_.

Katy thought for a moment that she truly had somehow teleported in both location and time back to her family's ranch as a whinny pierced through the veil of memories shrouding her mind, and she struggled to resurface from the river of recollections she'd foolishly allowed to sweep her up in its clinging current. Fighting her way back to reality, her comprehensive instincts activated, informing her that the whinny wasn't, in fact, a figment of her imagination brought on by her mental flashbacks as a loud huff and the stamping of hooves sounded to her right. Katy then realized her feet had carried her to a small paddock ringing one side of the Greene family's stable, and a beautiful chestnut mare was expectantly watching her as though wondering why the former soldier would wander so near and not offer some form of greeting.

"Well, hello, beautiful," Katy greeted the mare, stepping closer and holding a hand out. The former soldier couldn't help but smile as the mare pressed its chest against the fence and stretched its neck out, pressing its nose against Katy's upheld palm with a snort. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Stepping up to the fence, Katy slipped her pen into the spiral binding of her notebook before dropping the paper and pen to the ground, enabling her to better spoil the chestnut horse before her that drank up the attention as though starved. Running her hands over the mare's face and neck before reaching one hand up to scratch between its ears, Katy chuckled as the horse's ears twitched in appreciation. "Ya like that, huh? Abby's really gonna wanna meet you."

"That's Buttons."

Katy's heart jumped to her throat at the voice cutting into her one-sided conversation with the mare, and she turned sharply to see Hershel standing in the open doorway to the stable, leaning against a pitchfork. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't notice you there."

"No apology necessary, Major," Hershel returned, standing and leaning his pithfork against the stable wall before stepping to the mare's side. "I was just wonderin' who's out here talkin' to Buttons."

"She's a beautiful horse," Katy said, resting her palm on the mare's nose as Hershel stroked its side.

"I'll be sure to let Maggie know you think so." Hershel smiled and gave Buttons one last pat on the side before directing his full attention to the former soldier on the other side of the fence. "So, Rick tells me you aim to build us a fence."

"_Design_ you a fence, yes," Katy corrected the farmer, scooping her notebook off the ground as the conversation shifted and Buttons, realizing she'd receive no more attention from the pair, trotted to the other side of the paddock and the water trough stationed there. "Which reminds me. Judgin' from the architecture styling of the house, this farm's been here awhile." Katy pulled her pen from the spiral notebook's binding and pulled the cap off, ready to continue her notes. "Has your family owned it the whole time?"

"This farm's been in my family over a hundred and sixty years," Hershel replied. "I was born here. Why?"

"I was just wonderin' if you had any kind of map of the property itself. Maybe a land survey? Even if it's older, it'd help to see the full layout of the property."

"I believe there's an old survey map in my office," Hershel informed the former soldier after a moment of thought. "It's probably older than you are, but it should give you enough for what you need. Patricia or Beth or whoever's in the house'll be glad to fetch it for you."

"Well, I don't necessarily need the map just this second," Katy said as Hershel moved back toward the stable doors to continue his work. "Need an extra pair of hands?"

"I'm mucking stalls, Major," Hershel revealed, pausing in his trek. "It's not clean work."

"Luckily, I'm not afraid to get dirty," Katy returned, recapping her pen and smiling at the patriarch as he seemed uncertain. "My grandparents bred horses. It's nothin' I ain't been around before."

Hershel seemed to mull over Katy's offer, and the former soldier found herself desperately hoping he'd accept. She wanted to know more about the man who'd opened his home to her. She wanted to know if he could be trusted, and to do so required the opportunity to be in close quarters with him. Finally, the patriarch beckoned to Katy and she stepped up to a small gate breaking the paddock fence where it met the stable wall, stepping through as Hershel slipped the latch and swung it open.

* * *

><p>"Can I ask you somethin', Major?"<p>

Katy looked up from her work to see Hershel standing in the doorway of the stall she was cleaning. She and the patriarch had worked in silence for the better part of the past two hours, she working her way down one side of the stables and him working down the other, and she wondered what had spurred him to break that streak. Standing straight before leaning on the pitchfork she held, Katy resisted the urge to pop her back as she surveyed the patriarch. "I see no reason why not."

"Why're you doin' this?"

The question was blunt, straight and to-the-point, and Katy found her brain stalling for a moment. "Helping you muck the stalls?" she asked dumbly as her synapses fought to kickstart themselves.

"All of it," Hershel returned, his face impassive despite the genuine curiosity in his voice. "Why'd you stay when the herd came through? Why're you designin' us a fence?"

Katy's mind spun as the questions burned and swirled through her brain, burning away all other thoughts like lava through a forest and leaving behind only wariness and uncertainty. Did she tell Hershel that the only reason she'd come to the farm in the first place was the stubborn ex-law enforcement officer who'd refused to take 'no' for an answer? Did she tell the aging patriarch that the main thing that had kept her from leaving the minute she saw that herd heading for the farm was a line from the Warrior's Creed she'd dutifully memorized as soon as she could read? Did she tell him about the guilt swirling in her gut as the group thanked her for a defense she'd nearly not provided? Did she tell him her offer of designing a fence had been born from that guilt? That it was merely an attempt to make up for nearly betraying this group that showed her kindness? Somehow, she didn't think that would go over well.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," she finally stated simply, shrugging as she took her pitchfork back in hand and returned to her work, shovelling the manure from a stall she'd learned housed a gelding Beth took as her own: a black monster with a white star and stockings the younger of the Greene offspring had dubbed Domino. The former soldier hoped perhaps Hershel would accept her cue and end the conversation.

"Well, thank God for stallin' you on that highway," Hershel quipped as he accepted Katy's answer and turned to leave her to her work.

Katy scoffed. "God had nothin' t'do with it." She then immediately cringed as she heard Hershel pause in his retreat. _Dammit. Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut?_

"Are you sure about that, Major?" the farmer asked, again arranging himself in the threshold of the stall in which Katy worked.

"Are _you_?" Katy returned, glancing up at the patriarch as she deposited a forkful of manure into the nearby wheelbarrow. The elder man was watching her intently, and the former soldier was relieved to see studious inquiry in his face rather than anger or judgement.

"The Lord has looked out for me an' my family. Provided us with what we need to survive," Hershel informed the soldier before him. "He's kept my daughters safe. Kept too many walkers from breachin' the fences"—

"You just had an entire herd stumble through," Katy disagreed, her brows knitting together as she abandoned her task to meet the farmer's gaze. "I don't exactly call that divine provision."

"And on the day that herd was to stumble through, we find you on the highway," Hershel pointed out. "A military officer with the foresight and equipment necessary to mount a successful defense. Because of that, my farm's still standin'. You call that chance?"

Katy gave a dry laugh, shaking her head as she again returned to her work. "Oh yeah. After centuries of usin' shepherds, whores, tax collectors, an' fisherman, God decided to shake things up an' use an Army officer to do his work by keeping this farm safe. I'm the next Deborah."

"So you know the Bible," Hershel deducted, looking past the former soldier's biting sarcasm. "Its stories at least?"

Katy gave the farmer a sideways glance, as if suspicious of the motives behind his question_. _The man wasn't really going to attempt a conversion in a dirty horse stall in the middle of an apocalypse, was he? "I've read it. My father was raised Lutheran," she finally replied, her curiosity about where the conversation would lead outweighing her suspicion. "My grandparents tried to share their convictions with me, but it never really took."

"So you don't believe in it personally?"

"I believe in what I can understand and prove," Katy returned simply.

"And all the beauty you see around you doesn't prove that God exists?"

"Sorry," Katy returned, finally abandoning her work as she realized how determined Hershel was to make this a true discussion, giving the patriarch her undivided attention. "It's hard to see anythin' divine in nature's beauty when the dead are stumblin' 'round muckin' up the picture."

"Christ promised a ressurection of the dead," Hershel noted easily.

"And the Great Spirit promised a new disease on mankind every time an animal's killed improperly," Katy returned just as certainly.

"The Great Spirit?" Hershel parroted.

Katy leaned back against the wall of her stall, crossing her arms over her chest as she met Hershel eye-to-eye. "My father's parents were Lutheran; my mother's were full Cherokee. They were raised on the belief in a Great Spirit an' the desire for balance between Man, Earth, an' all the plants and animals. What proves your God more real than the Great Spirit?"

"The Great Spirit is a story, a legend," Hershel declared firmly, resolute in his faith.

"Not to many of the Cherokee people," Katy pointed out calmly. "They have just as much proof and conviction that their stories are true as you do about your Noah and his ark or Moses and his commandments."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're saying, Major," Hershel admitted after a moment.

Katy had never considered herself a religious person. Though she'd obediently joined her family at church when such duties were required of her, she had never been comfortable in the routine, the rules and doctrine. She had, however, always been fascinated by the ceremonies of religion, and the mythologies for each belief system and how they could sometimes overlap. While not a theologian by any means, she'd enjoyed many hours of study over the world's people and their varied convictions. Though she herself didn't seek comfort in the blind faith that a higher power gave meaning to the insane world she lived in, she understood why other people did find solace in the idea.

"What proves one religion more correct than another?" the former soldier found herself asking the farmer before her, who watched her like an unfamiliar insect he'd found crawling, uncertain as to whether it was harmless or dangerous and so simply observing. "The number of believers? The age of the doctrine?" Katy didn't wait for an answer as she continued. "Religion exists because people believe in it. Because they have a need to give their surroundings a meaning and purpose. Wars are fought and people die for something they can't prove. I don't mean to offend you, sir, but the idea has always seemed senseless to me."

"So you don't believe in God at all?" Hershel seemed thoughtful, and Katy found herself relieved she hadn't offended him. Seeing him for what he was, a man who treasured his family and faith and looked to God for an explanation of the crazy situation he found himself in, Katy crossed Hershel off of her mental watch list. She smiled at the southern patriarch before once again picking up her pitchfork, feeling this conversation was reaching its end.

"I don't believe I have the right to put labels and definitions on something as cosmic as the existence of an all-powerful Creator," Katy replied finally, scooping up a pile of manure and placing it in the wheelbarrow. "Besides, with how many devout people this apocalypse has torn apart without God's interference…if he exists, I don't think he cares much as to whether or not I believe in him."

"So you aren't concerned with what will happen to you when you die?" Hershel asked, searching for one last piece of insight from the soldier he'd welcomed onto his farm.

"No." Katy sighed at Hershel's question, turning her gaze to the grated window cut into Domino's stall. She could feel that Hershel had followed her stare, and so she knew he was seeing what she was: a pile of charred wood and smoky ash situated between the stable and the barn. The day before, that pile had been in the form of a great mass of corpses in various states of decay, a mass assembling of those who had fallen victim to the infection surging through everyone's bodies. A monument to the fate that awaited all of them.

"At the risk of further offense, sir, it's no secret what'll happen when I die."

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><p><em>Kkt. Kkt. Kkt. Kkt.<em>

Carol Peletier had always enjoyed cooking. There was a certain solace that could be found in the rhythmic tapping of a metal knife's blade against a cutting board, a certain relaxing quality to the scent of mixed spices flavoring whatever dish her hands chose to prepare. Though her deceased husband's violent nature had always allowed him to find something to complain about when he returned home from work—the house not clean enough, Sophia too noisy, Carol too kind to the neighbors—Carol had taken a certain pride in the fact that he could rarely find anything complaint-worthy about her skill in the kitchen.

Now, her husband was dead, gnawed on by the infected undead wandering the earth in search of a meal. Carol had first felt guilty in the wake of her husband's death. Not guilt for the fact that she was unable to save him, but rather guilt for the fact that she felt no sadness in the wake of his death. No pain. No grief. A sense of relief in that fact that Ed Peletier could no longer burn her with his words or darken her skin with the imprints of his knuckles and fingers had swelled inside Carol as she'd raised that pick-axe over her head and finally ended her husband's tyrannic hold on her life. And so, Carol had found new purpose.

Though her heart still yearned for the daughter she'd lost to this treacherous plague, Carol found herself feeling more responsible each day for this haphazardly thrown together group that had wriggled its way into her heart. She felt the need to look out for them any way she could. She couldn't use a gun, and the idea of using a knife for anything more brutal than cutting meat terrified her, but there were other things Carol could do. She could make sure everyone had clean clothes to wear. She could make sure they all got something to eat at the appropriate times of the day. She could make sure their lives retained some semblance of stability and normalcy. In the wake of losing her family, she'd begun to take this role of hers extremely seriously.

As she continued cutting the fresh vegetables she and Hershel's younger daughter had gathered from the Greene family's extensive garden, Carol couldn't help the satisfied hum escaping her throat. The kitchen was her domain…her place of peace and—

Her peace was abruptly shattered with the slamming of the screen door, heavy boots tapping more quietly than expected as a baby squealed a greeting from the living room. _That would be Katy._ Carol's suspicions were confirmed as the quiet soldier stepped into view through the open threshold stretching between the kitchen and the living room, sweeping into the living room with a quiet 'hey' to the infant standing in the middle of the floor with her tiny arms outstretched to her guardian. Carol smiled as she watched Katy scoop Brooklynn up and swing the child around, making her squeal happily before the former soldier settled the infant on her hip. The former soldier may have had no blood relation to the children in her care, but it was easy to see her fondness for them in the warm smile on her face as she looked down at Brooklynn.

"She wasn't any trouble, was she?" Katy asked as she pivoted on one foot and strode into the kitchen, her eyes fixed on Carol.

"Of course not," Carol returned, smiling at the soldier before her as she plucked a cherry tomato from her pile of vegetables and offered it to Brooklynn, who trilled happily as she bit into the treat. "She's a very well-behaved baby. Did you finish what you needed to get done?" Carol had been surprised when Katy had asked her to look after Brooklynn once breakfast was finished, as it had been like pulling teeth to get the soldier to relent her watch duty for a matter of hours to take a much-deserved nap the day before. Carol wouldn't speak out against the soldier's watchfulness, however. If anything, she commended Katy for it, wondering if she'd shared the same instincts if it would've made a difference in her daughter's fate.

"Even better," Katy returned with a small grin. "Got what I needed finished and helped Hershel in the stables."

"Good. I've just about got lunch ready if you're hungry?"

"Maybe in a little bit," Katy said, her eyes conducting a cursory sweep of the area. "Where're Luke and Abby?"

"Luke is out with Carl and Abby was playing on the porch with Brutus," Carol reported, pausing in her work. "But then she saw Daryl coming in from his hunt this morning…"

"And got curious. She at least take Brutus with her?"

Carol nodded, causing the former soldier to sigh. "I'm sorry, Katy. She was gone before I could catch her."

"It's not your fault, Carol," Katy returned easily. "Abby takes me being willing to leave her alone for a bit as a sign a place is safe and she can wander as she pleases. It's not the first time she's disobeyed me like that. How long ago did she take off?"

"Maybe fifteen minutes? Daryl won't let anything happen to her," Carol promised, reading the tightening in Katy's face. "He'll keep an eye on her."

"Maybe, but he doesn't exactly seem well-versed when it comes to handling a high-strung six-year-old," Katy quipped, causing Carol to laugh. It was true Daryl wasn't the most patient person. "Where's he usually take care of his catches?"

"There's an old chimney out in the south pasture he's taken a shine to. That's most likely where he'll be."

"You mind keepin' an eye on Brook again?"

Katy seemed to feel guilty about asking Carol to take up a responsibility the soldier considered her own, and Carol gave her a reassuring smile as she stepped around the kitchen island to take Brooklynn from Katy's arms. "You don't even have to ask. Go round Abby up. I've got this one. She's about ready to go down for a nap anyway."

Katy smiled gratefully as she leaned forward to press a kiss on the infant's head, tiny hands wiping at heavy eyes confirming the truth in Carol's words. "Thank you. I guess I'm gonna go conduct a rescue mission."

Carol laughed as she watched Katy once again leave the farmhouse. She thought of the bubbly, energetic little girl in the former soldier's care and the gruff hunter she'd come to respect. Imagining the two parties colliding, her laugh continued as she vaguely wondered which one Katy would actually be rescuing.

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><p>"Watcha doin'?"<p>

_Aww, hell._ Daryl looked up as a high-pitched voice reached his ears, certain syllables dragged out as children tended to do. The little girl in Katy's care stood only a few paces away, her arms swinging at her sides. Scanning the area behind the child, Daryl scowled as he noticed Abby was alone aside from the German Shepherd sitting obediently at her feet, its head reaching above the petite blonde's waist.

"Skinnin' squirrels," the hunter returned simply as he sent a cursory glance over the child. It was no easy trek for a kid to make across the pasture to where he'd set up shop, but Abby seemed to have made it no worse for wear aside from some grass stains sending streaks of green across the knees of her faded blue jeans. The dog seemed a capable babysitter, remaining alert with his ears and nose twitching for any signs his young charge was in danger despite the fact that they'd reached their destination, and Daryl found himself sending an approving nod in the hound's direction. Being watched over by a dog was better than not being watched over at all…hell, the dog was probably doing a better job of keeping an eye on the kid than most of the group was, if the fact that Abby had made it out here without an adult stopping or following her was any indication. Lord knows he'd have gotten in much less trouble as a kid if he'd had a good dog looking out for him.

"Why?"

Daryl scowled as he looked at the girl's face, her eyes shining with curiosity as she watched him work. The rest of the group couldn't keep up with their brats and suddenly he was expected to play twenty questions? What the hell? "For eatin'. Why else?"

"You eat squirrels?!" The young girl's voice was a surprised squeak as she stepped closer, her nose wrinkling as she leaned over to look in the bucket sitting to Daryl's right.

"Yeah," Daryl returned simply, noticing Abby didn't seem particularly grossed out by the innards staining the sides of the bucket red. Instead, that same curiosity still prevailed on her face. Fascination mixed in with the unspoken questions as her eyes rose from the bucket to the squirrel splayed on the small table straddling Daryl's legs, his knife slicing cleanly down the unfortunate rodent's belly. Daryl had to give the girl credit for not running off screaming at the idea of him butchering one of Snow White's woodland friends.

"I never tried squirrel before. Katy says it's bad luck. I've had rabbit, though." Abby seemed to expect Daryl to be impressed by the information she'd offered, but the hunter simply grunted as he continued his work, tossing another squirrel carcass into the bucket with a squelch.

Seeing that Daryl wasn't going to offer her a reply, Abby had the audacity to move closer, her eyes falling to the pile of yet-to-be-skinned animals sitting beside the hunter. Daryl noticed the girl send a glance in his direction, and he put down his knife in anticipation as she reached an inquisitive hand toward the dead squirrel on top of the pile. Daryl's large hand quickly darted out and circled her tiny wrist just as her fingers brushed the squirrel's fur, and was momentarily struck by how dainty Abby was as his fingers swallowed her wrist in their grasp. Abby squeaked as she followed the large hand at her wrist up to meet the hardened glare of the hunter, her eyes going wide as she waited for retribution.

"Don't touch." Daryl released the girl's hand as he saw comprehension in those big blue eyes, and Abby retracted her curious fingers away from his catch with a small nod. _She's obedient, at least,_ Daryl thought as the child went so far as to take a careful step back from the hunter and his work. He then turned his attention to the hound sidling up to his wandering mistress and sniffing at her wrist with a small whine, as though ensuring the hunter hadn't hurt his charge as the dog looked between Daryl and Abby. "I didn't hurt her." Daryl felt the need to assure the German Shepherd, if only to make sure the mutt didn't take a bite out of his ass the minute his back was turned. To make his statement even clearer, the hunter took his knife in hand once again, cutting a sliver of meat from one of the pieces in a pile at the corner of his table and tossing it to the dog. Brutus snapped the treat out of the air in a flash of sharp, white teeth, and Daryl shook his head when the hound finished his treat and sat back on his haunches as though waiting for another. "That's all ya get."

As if understanding what the hunter had said, Brutus laid down at Abby's feet, his ears drooping as he rested his head between his paws and looked up at the hunter with golden eyes. Unable to ignore what was clearly a pout, Daryl rolled his eyes and sliced off another piece of meat for the hound, tossing it and watching as it again disappeared in a flash of teeth. A loud, brassy bark of thanks exited the dog's throat as the meat entered it, and Daryl couldn't help the small smile that pulled his mouth up in the corners as he surveyed Brutus's antics. "Yer welcome."

"He likes it!" Abby squealed happily, clapping her hands together. "Can I give 'im a piece, Mr. Dixon? Please?"

"Only if ya don't call me Mr. Dixon," Daryl returned quickly, slicing another sliver from the rapidly shrinking hunk of meat before him and holding it out. "It's just Daryl, kid."

Abby nodded as she took the meat from his hand and held it in front of Brutus in the center of her tiny palm. Daryl worried for a moment that the girl was going to lose her hand to the dog as it climbed to its feet, but Brutus gently licked the treat from her outstretched hand, removing the bloody residue from each of the child's fingers before tilting its head up to lick along the girl's chin. Abby giggled as the wet tongue slurped over her face, and Daryl found himself smiling again before returning to his work.

"Mr. Daryl, what's squirrel taste like?" Abby asked a moment later after sinking to the ground to lie against Brutus's side. "Does it taste like rabbit?"

"Just Daryl," the hunter corrected once again, sighing as he glanced over at the little girl and her big blue eyes and blonde curls, so innocent and trusting in this dangerous new world. "Squirrel tastes more like chicken."

"It doesn't look like chicken," Abby noted with a wrinkle of her nose. Daryl didn't answer, returning his attention to his task as Abby fell silent. He was a fool, however, for thinking it would last long. "Mr. Daryl, do you hurt the squirrels when you kill 'em?"

The hunter tilted his head back with a growl at the idea of having to correct this kid again, but he was thankfully saved from having to do so as another voice, higher than his own but not the same childish soprano as Abby, cut through the crisp fall air. "_Abagail Schae McMurray_, just _what_ do ya think you're doin'?!"

With Brutus immediately jumping to his feet and taking off to meet the visitor, the tiny blonde jumped up from her spot on the ground as if a fire had started beneath her, and Daryl followed the child's guilty gaze to where her guardian was stepping closer across the pasture, mouth set in a stern line as she surveyed the scene before her. Daryl almost felt sorry for the kid. Middle names, in his experience, had only been created for a child to distinguish being in trouble from wishing the earth would swallow you before you could receive whatever punishment was coming.

"I's jus' watchin' Mr. Daryl!" Abby reported, rushing up to her guardian as if begging her to understand as the former soldier came to a halt less than ten feet from where Daryl paused in his skinning once again to watch the situation unfold. Christ. He was never going to get all this skinning done if everyone in a ten mile radius kept feeling the need to interrupt him_. _"He caught squirrels an' rabbits! He says squirrels taste like chicken. Do they really taste like chicken, Katy?"

"What'd I tell ya 'fore I headed out this mornin'?" Ignoring her charge's inquisition, Katy's voice remained stern as she pushed her aviators atop her head and crossed her arms over her chest, directing that fire-stare down at the disobedient child before her. Even Brutus seemed to chastise Abby, seating himself beside Katy as though to echo his disapproval of Abby's actions.

Daryl watched as Abby opened and closed her mouth like a fish stuck on the riverbank, her eyes widening as she searched for freedom, much like the catfish, trout, & bass he'd caught almost daily before the world had gone to shit. Seeing no way out, Abby finally ducked her head under her guardian's stare. "To stay by the house 'til you came back," the tiny blonde said morosely.

"And did you?"

"No." Abby shook her head, resigned to her punishment as she looked up at Katy with her blue eyes wide.

"An' what have I said about wanderin' off like that? Not tellin' anyone where you're goin'?" Abby shrunk under Katy's continued intensity, and Daryl mused that even though Katy wasn't his mama, guardian, or boss in any way, he probably would've withered under that look, too. Katy was stone and fire, Abby's cherubic face twisted into an aching sadness failing to daunt her in making sure the wayward child realized how dire her situation was.

"That it's not safe to go anywhere alone," Abby said, but then seemed to gain new drive for reasoning as she shrugged her shoulders and sighed loudly. "But I wasn't by myself! I brought Brutus! And Mr. Daryl was here! And…" Abby trailed off as the steel of Katy's glare refused to soften, finally hanging her head in total defeat. "I'm sorry, Katy."

"How many times have I had to get on to you for not obeying what I tell you?" Katy's voice was firm but not cruel as she surveyed the guilty child before her.

"A bajillion," Abby admitted.

"And I've gotten onto you for the same thing twice in two days. How many times should I have to get onto you?"

"Zero."

"Exactly." Katy let Abby wallow in her own acknowledgement of her guilt for a moment longer before finally taking pity on the petite child. "Take Brutus and get back to the house," the former soldier ordered, gesturing at the hound at her feet. "Don't leave Carol or Lori's sight. We'll discuss your punishment when I get back."

Not allowing herself to release a relieved sigh or a smile lest she risk her good luck being snatched from under her, Abby simply nodded at her sentence, calling for Brutus and heading off across the pasture in compliance with her guardian's orders. Daryl watched the blonde go for a few moments, curly ponytail bouncing behind her as Brutus followed at her heels, before turning back to his skinning.

"She weren't no problem," he called out to the former soldier after a moment, silently hoping maybe she'd take it easy on Abby. It didn't make much sense to him to punish the kid for being curious. It wasn't really something the kid could help.

"She may not have been _a_ problem, but she wasn't _your_ problem, either," Katy noted, glancing back over her shoulder at the hunter. "Thank you for keepin' an eye on her."

Daryl grunted an affirmative as he remained bent over his task, unable to argue with the woman's logic. Her mission complete, Daryl expected to hear Katy following after the blonde, but after several long moments had passed with no sound of pants rustling through the grass or boots scuffing in the dirt, he looked up from the squirrel he had splayed on the table to see the former soldier still standing in the same spot, arms crossed over her chest. The only difference was that, rather than staring after the departing child in her care, Katy had pivoted around to face Daryl's workstation, watching the hunter as he continued his task. It wasn't a comfortable feeling for Daryl Dixon, being studied, and he found himself bristling instantaneously.

"Ya got somethin' to say?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes at the brunette. "Or're ya jus' lookin' to slum with the locals?

"Oh, sorry…" Katy switched her weight from one foot to the other, uncrossing her arms and burying them in the back pockets of the worn jeans slung low on her hips in the first nervous sign Daryl had seen from the soldier. "No…I was just wonderin'…word is you're the go-to guy for hunting."

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><p><strong>AN: **Thank you all so much for reading! Please review! :)

Lauren


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **It has been wayyy too long. And that is all I'm going to say about that. I hope you enjoy the new chapter! :)

Lauren

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>

As his eyes snapped open to meet darkness and silence and the bottom of the heavy oak table in the Greene family dining room, Daryl wasn't sure what had pulled his body from the depths of unconsciousness and to a brutally prompt awareness, his mind shaking off the dregs of early morning drowsiness to achieve instantaneous clarity. Before he could cast his eyes about in search of the source of his sudden alertness, however, the percolating of the outdated coffee maker in the kitchen reached his ears, pointing him in the right direction. He then couldn't help the huff that escaped his lungs as he saw the source of his wakefulness. _Of course._

The dark form of his current suspicions stood silhouetted against the pristine paleness of the kitchen cabinets, clearly visible through the threshold between the dining room and kitchen. Katy stood in profile at the junction of cabinets in the farthest corner of the kitchen, her eyes cast down to the hands she left resting on the counter in front of her as she waited for her coffee. Taking in the forest patterns he could discern in the woman's clothing rather than the army digitals he'd seen her wear previously, Daryl quickly realized Katy was going to make good on what they'd discussed the afternoon before.

It had been odd—Daryl had decided that was the only appropriate word for it—to have someone, a near stranger at that, asking him about his hunting habits. This group simply accepted his work and didn't question it, trusting him to share his catches and do his part in helping keep them fed. They didn't care where he went hunting…how long it took him to scrape together everything he brought in…where he found game trails. Katy, on the other hand, had been full of seemingly endless questions, determined to pull every speck of information he knew about the hunting opportunities offered by the Greenes' vast acreage from the crevices of his brain.

With her standing in front of him with her arms crossed over her chest, her weight settled back on one leg as her hip jutted to one side, Daryl had nearly told the ex-soldier to scram and find someone else to put under the fire of such an inquisition about their chosen work. He certainly hadn't hesitated in letting her know he didn't need none of her help when she'd offered an extra pair of hands for cleaning the rest of his catch—an act he'd somewhat regretted, not that he'd admit it to anyone, once Katy had finished her questions and left him alone for the several hours it had taken to complete the gutting and skinning on his own. But as Abby's words repeated themselves and bounced around his skull, Daryl had bit down the urge to send the former officer running as their meaning snapped into place and provided a new clarity.

_I never tried_ _squirrel before…I've had rabbit, though. _That admission…Abby's curiosity but not disgust as she'd watched him slice through the squirrel carcasses…Katy's keen senses and stealthy bearing…it had all made a sudden, certain kind of sense. Katy was a hunter.

Daryl had decided he should've realized it sooner. It was only logical, after all, that the former soldier would have the ability to find food for herself and the children she protected outside of potentially life-threatening raids on convenience stores or supermarkets. There was no way Katy would've risked leaving the children she watched after so carefully with no source of protection by way of her own death. Even with the plan she'd crafted for the disposal of the herd stumbling across the farm the day of her arrival, Katy had done everything possible to ensure the children's safety as well as her own survival, escaping the battle altogether unscathed.

So, Daryl had begrudgingly answered Katy's questions about direction, distance, and density of the wildlife filling the nearby forest. If her instincts found themselves at home in the dominion of the woods, who was he to deny her the clarity he himself craved and could only find in the shadows of the Georgia pines? And if a small part of him had conjured up the shady thought that maybe, if the group was lucky, some misfortune would befall the former soldier and they'd be free of whatever darkness it was in her that made the hair on his neck stand straight whenever his eyes met hers for too long…well, no one needed to know about it.

Shaking his thoughts and recollections away with a huff, knowing there was definitely no hope of him getting back to sleep now that his brain was coursing a hundred miles an hour, Daryl rolled out from under the table where he'd made his pallet, pulling himself up into one of the chairs. His movement caught Katy's attention as he set to putting on his boots, her body jerking around as her eyes found him. Daryl expected her to say something, but the former soldier kept quiet, turning back to dig in the cabinets until she found the coffee cups.

"Sorry…didn't mean to wake anyone up," Katy finally whispered once Daryl had finished with his boots and crossed the kitchen to stand beside her. Watching her fill a powder blue coffee cup with a chip in the rim with the strong, heady black drink, Daryl couldn't help the small huff that escaped his throat. Of course she hadn't meant to wake anyone up. The girl was worse than a damn ghost, not even tapping the coffee-filled carafe against the rim of the mug to make the slightest noise. "Coffee?"

"I got watch anyway," Daryl noted, surprised when his nod of acceptance resulted in Katy sliding the mug she'd just filled across the counter to his waiting hand. Daryl kept an eye on the former soldier over the edge of his cup as she dug for another coffee mug and finally produced one of china white, green bands pin striping around the top and a large sunflower decorating the side. "You goin' out?" He didn't have to clarify what he meant by 'out.' It was evidenced enough in the head-to-toe camouflage shielding Katy's skin with patterns of fall leaves and bare branches.

"I thought I might try my luck." Katy shrugged as she returned the pot to the coffee maker and pivoted on her heel, leaning back to let the counter support her weight as she sipped at the mug clutched in her fingers. "It's still early enough I should be able to get out to that trail you told me about an' look around a bit 'fore the sun comes up. I shouldn't be gone too long past sun-up…Luke and Abby'll panic if I'm not back by noon."

Daryl simply nodded, not entirely comfortable with the idea of the former soldier stomping around the game trail he'd been staking out but not caring enough to put forth the argument. He already suspected Katy was just using his reports as a starting point and would quickly branch off and find her own areas to hunt, leaving his neck of the woods alone. It was what any proper hunter would do. But then again, the end of the world wasn't exactly made for proper people.

Katy finished her coffee first, cutting through the aching silence stretching between the mismatched pair as she rinsed her mug out in the sink, the sound of running water glaringly loud in the house that was silent aside from T-Dog's snores from a corner of the living room. Without a farewell or even a grunt of acknowledgement apart from a quick meeting of eyes, she swept past Daryl and out of the Greene house, shutting the door behind her with a stealthy silence that momentarily made the hunter question if she'd been in the house at all or if he'd imagined it and she was still asleep in that monster of a Humvee, though the coffee cup clutched in his hands said otherwise.

Quickly finishing his coffee and setting his mug in the sink with Katy's, Daryl dug the palms of his hands into his eyes, shaking away the last bits of tiredness that pulled at his bones. He had a watch shift to take. Returning to the pallet he'd set up under the table, the hunter quickly rolled the nest of blankets up and pushed them into an out-of-the-way corner before scooping up his crossbow and slinging it into place over one shoulder. His pistol found its home tucked away in the waistband of his jeans, resting its comfortable weight against the base of his spine, and then Daryl was leaving the Greene house as stealthily as possible, careful not to disturb the rest of the group so to let them gain what rest they could before they, too, had to rise and greet whatever the god-forsaken world had in store for them that day.

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><p>The forest was a place of cleansing. Peace. Understanding. Or at least it had always seemed so to Katy. From the moment she could walk farther than two feet without her chubby baby legs losing their balance and sending her to the ground, Katy had been at home beneath the clusters of trees and canopies of interlocking branches. The earthy smells of dirt, decaying woods, and sharp pines were as comfortable to her as her own skin, and as she breathed them in deeply every smidgen of tension sunk from her body and into the ground beneath her boots. As long as she was enveloped in the woods, Katy could pretend the world hadn't ended. She could pretend everyone she knew wasn't dead. She could pretend she'd simply gotten a free weekend off-base and chosen to use it to its greatest potential.<p>

Of course, the minute she stepped to the edge of the woods and saw that farmhouse across the pasture, the world would crash back into place around her. The memories would come back none too gently, leaving her reeling and struggling to breathe. The death. The chaos. The regret. It always came back, never being shaken away for long. But that would be later. This was now. And now, Katy was on a mission.

Her eyes skittered among the leaves and twigs, searching for the slightest out-of-place sign that her quarry was nearby. It had been over an hour since she'd left the game trail to which Daryl had directed her, over an hour since she'd picked out the fresh set of tracks from the mass of hooved and clawed imprints decorating the banks of a stream a few miles north from where she'd disappeared into the tree line around the Greene farm. She'd been chasing her target for what felt like an eternity when trapped in the humidity beneath the canopy of trees towering above where only the smallest columns of sunlight managed to pierce the thick foliage and illuminate the forest's gloom, over fallen trees and through the corner of a bog, but she knew she was finally drawing close. She could hear her targets chortling to each other just ahead, could see a flurry of movement through the branches blocking an unobstructed view of the clearing where her quarry waited, unaware of their impending doom.

Carefully, silently, eyes never leaving the vague movement she tracked just ahead, Katy freed three arrows from the quiver locked to the side of the compound bow resting easily in her right hand. Clutching the arrows tightly and willing her movements to stay quiet, the former soldier crept through the undergrowth as quietly as possible. She kept her knees high to avoid scuffling any particularly crispy leaves as she went, guiding her feet to find purchase on the tree roots jutting across her path as she eased ever closer to her prey.

Finally, the clearing opened up before Katy, a few shadows and a majestic elm the only things keeping her separated from the open expanse, and she was given a clear view of her elusive prey. A dozen turkeys scuttled around the clearing some twenty yards before her, picking for bugs and seeds in a warbling mass of shades of brown and grey. Some hunters said turkeys were dumb creatures; some said they were smart. Katy didn't know which opinion was correct and, quite frankly, she didn't care. All she knew was that turkeys were unpredictable and one of the most entertaining species to pursue. She hadn't been sure what she'd happen upon in following those tracks from the banks of that stream, whether she'd be led to an empty roost or to a waiting flock. Now that she faced her quarry and knew her stalking hadn't been for nothing, adrenaline began flooding her veins and her heart pounded in her ears.

Keeping an eye on the flock before her for any sign she'd been spotted lurking in the shadows, Katy stabbed two of her arrows into the dirt by her foot and adjusted her bow in her hands so she could slip her pack from her shoulders. She needed to have as much mobility in her shoulders as possible, and stealth was key in ensuring her targets would stay put. Setting her pack against the trunk of the tree she stood beside, Katy studied the bobbing flock before her, her eyes picking out a fat tom on her side of the flock as her hands nocked her third arrow to the bowstring. Focusing her gaze on that target, Katy raised her bow, keeping her right hand relaxed against the grip as her left pulled back the string, the sights lining up before her eyes. The weight that would send her arrow flying rested solely in the first three fingers of her left hand, her fingertips just brushing her cheek over the corner of her mouth, and Katy took in a deep breath as she focused on her target and lined her sights up with the patch of red she knew was the tom's waddle. Her heart still pounding in her ears, the former soldier let the air whoosh from her lungs as her fingers released the bowstring.

Before she could even be sure her target had fallen, Katy clutched at her second arrow, setting it against the string as the flock began to scatter. Quickly pulling the arrow into position, she followed the flock's movement toward the opposite edge of the clearing, the tension of holding the bow upright settling its familiar weight across her shoulders. Accessing her diaphragm and the power it gave her voice, the former soldier yelped out the loud, three-note warble her grandfather had taught her years before, letting her arrow fly as she noticed one of the turkeys at the rear of the skedaddling flock hesitate at the hen call. After nearly two hours of tracking and stalking, the whole ordeal was over in an anticlimactic matter of seconds as the last bird disappeared into the trees on the other side of the clearing.

Her chest heaving with the adrenaline surging through her veins, Katy held back the whoop that wanted to explode from her throat, focusing on keeping her breathing normal as she pulled air in through her nose and released it from her mouth. No writers had been exaggerating when they spoke of the 'thrill of the hunt.' Very few things equaled that rush that came from pitting oneself against nature and coming out the victor, and even someone who had been hunting since they were old enough to hold a gun level, as Katy had, was not immune to the exhilaration.

Though tempted to go running into the field with a victorious fist thrust into the air at the sight of the two separate masses that could only mean she'd managed to bring down both of her targets, Katy waited several moments to move from her seclusion, not wanting to reveal herself too soon in case the flock of turkeys was on the verge of returning to the clearing. Only when all had remained quiet did she reshoulder her pack and pull her last arrow from where it stood upright in the dirt, fitting it to the bowstring but not pulling the string taut. If anything particularly unfriendly had been drawn to the noise the flock had made, she wanted to be able to respond to the threat quickly.

Katy kept her eyes sharp as she stepped from her hiding place, scanning her surrounding as she paced forward, occasionally pivoting around to face the way she'd come and make sure nothing was trying to ambush her from behind. Passing by her first kill once she knew the lopped off head ensured it wouldn't be trying to make an escape, she continued on to the second, grimacing as she approached. This had been a messier shot…an accumulation of action and reaction…and it showed in the scene before her. Her arrow had pierced through the tom's body at the top of the legs, pinning the bottom of one wing to its side and keeping the turkey from running or flying anywhere but failing to give it the quick and painless death she preferred. Instead, the gobbler was flopping around a pile of fallen leaves in a miserable display of pain and blood loss, her arrow jutting from its side.

"Damn," Katy said to no one in particular as she approached the crippled bird with a shake of her head. She quickly placed her boot on the jake's neck, grimacing as she shifted her weight until she felt his neck give beneath her boot and the turkey's frenzied flopping ceased. "Sorry, tom. I didn't want it to end like that. But I've gotta eat same as you, understand?"

In the past, Katy had several hunting buddies that had teased her about the way she talked to her targets in the event that something went wrong and her kill was not as quick or clean as she had planned. Katy had always taken the teasing in stride, hearing her grandfather's insistence that the spirit of an animal lingered after a kill and needed assurance that its death was not meaningless over her friends' banter. She didn't go as far as her grandfather did, thanking the spirit for its offering in the native language of his people, but she'd always figured a little superstition never hurt anyone. If her grandfather was right about spirits, then the last thing she needed was being haunted by the ghost of Bambi's mother.

Removing her arrow from the bowstring and returning it to its slot in her quiver, Katy knelt down beside the tom and set her bow aside. Bringing one hand to press against the bird's body, bracing the turkey against the ground, she wrapped her other hand around her arrow shaft where it disappeared into the bird's wing feathers. With a firm yank, her arrow came free, the metal broadhead dulled in the jake's blood. She then grabbed the bird around its neck and picked it up in one hand, grabbing her bow in the other as she stood before returning to her first feathered victim.

After setting the two turkeys down together, Katy looked around the clearing, finally finding what she was looking for as she caught a glint of lime green fletchings among the browns, yellows, and oranges of the leaves scattered across the clearing. Retrieving her last arrow, she pulled her pack from her shoulders long enough to retrieve a rag from an outer pocket, cleaning the arrows off before returning them to the quiver of her bow, the six sets of lime-green fletchings paired with shining broadheads forming a menacing and foreboding image for any particularly tasty woodland creature she might encounter.

Studying her kill, Katy then decided she didn't want to dress or clean the birds in the clearing. The various tracks she'd seen suggested the clearing was a popular resting place for the animals that called this part of the woods home, and she wouldn't want to compromise hunting grounds with such potential. Nodding to herself in favor of her own idea, she scooped up the pair of turkeys by their legs before disappearing into the woods once again, quite satisfied with the morning's efforts.

* * *

><p>As he stepped out of the direct sunlight of late morning and over the shadowed threshold of the crumbling barn that served as the best vantage point from which to keep an eye on the northern stretches of the Greene homestead, Rick couldn't help but hesitate at the edges of the shadows. It was from this barn that Sophia had stumbled a few weeks before, turned into a shadow of her former self that hungered for the flesh of her companions, and shattered all of the group's hopes that she'd be found safe and unscathed. It was in this barn where he'd planned to execute Randall and first realized the darkness growing in his son's soul, fostered by the new, merciless world they found themselves in. It was this barn he'd fled to in order to escape the hoard of undead swarming the Greene farm. It was in this barn that dozens of the herd had fallen to their final death, their starving moans and growls silenced amid the rat-a-tat of gunfire.<p>

Death hung from every crossbeam and shingle of the dilapidated structure stretching above and around Rick, the smell lingering despite the breeze flowing through the doors left hanging open in attempt to air out the building. Nothing, it seemed, could erase the haunting traces of the deceased from the barn. Rick steeled himself and pushed into the gloomy interior, resolutely ignoring the dried blood still staining the walls and floor and instead focusing on the form descending from the barn loft with his back to the former sheriff's deputy, a familiar crossbow resting between shoulders hidden by sprawling angel wings sewn onto black leather.

"Is it still quiet out there?" Rick asked as the hunter's boots connected solidly with the barn floor and he turned to face his replacement for the next watch shift. Daryl nodded and Rick breathed a sigh of relief. His number one concern once the dust had settled from the first herd to stumble across the farm was that all of the gunfire from stopping that horde would bring another crashing through at any time, but two days later all remained silent. "Looks like we dodged a bullet."

"For now," Daryl confirmed with a grunt before gesturing over his shoulder. "And G.I. Jane is on her way back."

Rick followed Daryl's gesture out the double doors on the side of the barn that opened up to the north pasture to where he watched Luke dart under the fence and rush through the long grass out to where Katy was making her way across the pasture. "Looks like she was successful," the former officer noted as he watched Katy greet her charge and noticed the dark bundle hanging from one hand and the bow clasped securely in the other. Daryl had told everyone the brunette had decided to go hunting when they'd noticed her absence from the breakfast table. He didn't miss Daryl's scoff and turned to see the hunter taking in the same picture Rick had, but with his brows furrowed and his mouth turned down in a deep scowl. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Daryl returned quickly, but Rick wasn't convinced as the hunter crossed his arms over his chest and then dropped them, obviously on edge. "Everything. Hell, I dunno…I just know I don't like it. I don't trust 'er no further than I could throw 'er."

Rick put his hands on his hips, holding in a sigh. He had grown to respect and value the skills of observation he knew Daryl possessed, and so the hunter's warnings against the visiting soldier weren't something he could just ignore. But neither could he discount Katy's skills and training that he knew his group desperately needed to utilize. He could reassure Daryl that Katy's presence with the group was just temporary, but just the thought of doing so made him feel sick. The group needed Katy to stay. But if Katy were to stay, he couldn't have the dynamic of the group threatened by Daryl's hostility toward the former soldier. If the group wanted to move past basic survival and truly thrive, then he needed them all to work together as a cohesive unit, which couldn't happen if Daryl and Katy were to continually clash.

"Good morning."

Rick pulled himself from his inner turmoil to see that Katy had spotted the two men in the barn and made her way over to check in, her form and Luke's blending together to make a dark silhouette against the backdrop of a clear blue sky and pasture of yellow grass as they hesitated in the doorway. "Good morning," Rick returned easily, smiling at the duo as they entered the barn once their eyes had been given a chance to adjust to the dim lighting. "Was your hunt successful?"

"Moderately," Katy noted with a neutral hum, holding her catch aloft just long enough for Rick to see what it was she'd caught. "Just two toms."

"Turkeys?" Rick returned in mild surprise. It wasn't something he'd ever eaten, nor was it something Daryl had ever brought back to camp to his knowledge.

"I didn't wanna drag a deer back all by myself," Katy noted as she picked up the question in Rick's tone. "I don't hunt squirrel, and Daryl brought a whole colony of rabbits in yesterday."

"Ya know, Georgia doesn't actually have a fall turkey season," Rick noted as he pulled the information from a fading memory of the game wardens that would stop through the precinct on occasion.

"You gonna arrest me for poaching, officer?" A teasing lilt wove through Katy's voice as she cocked an eyebrow at the former police officer before her. "We're a little outside your jurisdiction, aren't we?"

Rick chuckled, "That we are. Can you turn those into anything edible?"

Katy glanced down at the turkeys dangling from her hand and back to Rick, reading his friendly challenge. "Please. By the time I'm through with these birds you'll be wondering why anyone buys turkey at Thanksgiving." Katy let Rick's brassy and comfortable laugh subside before she turned her attention to the redneck that had thus far remained silent. "I saw some deer tracks a little ways north of the game trail you told me about," she revealed, keeping her voice light and pleasant. "They were pretty deep impressions…might be worth teaming up and checking out."

Rick watched as Daryl's scowl only deepened, his already heavy-lidded eyes narrowing to suspicious slits of blue. "Ain't interested," the hunter growled. "I don't need no help huntin'…an' if I did, you sure as hell ain't gonna be the first person I ask."

Rick winced as Daryl quickly pivoted on his heel and marched out of the barn without another word. "He grows on you," he offered as he looked to Katy to find her simply standing there as if unsure how to react to the hunter's brusque words.

"I dunno about that," the former soldier returned, clearly skeptical. She then shook her head as if dismissing the exchange and turned to the young man at her side. "C'mon, Luke. Let's go see if we can find somewhere to pluck us some turkeys."

"Can you teach me to shoot a bow afterward?" Luke asked, perking up as he turned wide, pleading eyes on his guardian. "You said you'd teach me when we found somewhere safe to practice."

Rick watched as Katy seemed to mull over the proposal, her lips quirking to one side as she looked down at the boy in front of her who was already bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. The dynamic between Katy and the children she watched over was an interesting one to observe. While for Abby Katy was more of a surrogate mother whose word was law and to whom disobedience had repercussions, the same deference wasn't quite there between Katy and Luke. For Luke, Katy was more like a favorite aunt, a figure who could guide him and discipline him but that he didn't have to submit to on the same level as a parent. He wasn't afraid to approach Katy about something he wanted, and the former soldier was eager to listen.

"I'll tell you what," Katy returned after a moment of thought, smiling at the excited eight-year-old. "You help me with these turkeys and afterward I'll see if Hershel has a hay bale or two he wouldn't mind us shooting at for a little while."

Katy and Rick both chuckled as Luke erupted in a cry of victory as he thrust a victorious fist in the air and whooped for joy. Rick was then left shaking his head as Luke half-dragged Katy out of the barn, gushing about how they needed to hurry, and left the former deputy alone to take up his watch shift.

As Rick settled in the loft, he couldn't help but replay Daryl's suspicion and harshness toward their guest. He understood the group's suspicion of outsiders considering all they'd been through, but how could they ever hope to rebuild their world without trusting any other survivors they might stumble across? If Katy could save the farm and still not be accepted by the group as a whole, then how could he hope for everything to work out long-term? What kind of future would there be for the children reared by this world? For Carl? Luke? Abby? Brooklynn? The child growing in Lori's belly that had yet to enter the world?

His entire mood soured by such melancholy thoughts, Rick buried his head in his hands, trying to chase the dark musings away with little success. Maybe there really was no hope left to be had?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know what you think! :)

Lauren


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